CHAPTER XXII
Otto Sverdrup.—Four years’ voyage of the Fram.—Journeys in Ellesmere Land.—Important exploration of Jones Sound.—Discovery of new lands.—Release of the Fram. Captain Roald Amundsen.—The voyage of the Gjoa.—Reaches head of Petersen Bay (King William Land).—Two years’ stay.—Valuable scientific observations.—Visits from Eskimos.—Sledge journeys.—Release from the ice.—August 14, 1906.—Completion of the Northwest Passage.—Another Arctic winter.—Sledge journey of Amundsen to Eagle City.—Release of the Gjoa.—Reaches San Francisco, 1907.
In the Geographical Journal of November, 1902, Sir Clements R. Markham, President of the Royal Geographical Society of London, commenting on the remarkable achievement of Otto Sverdrup and his gallant companions during four travelling seasons entailing four Arctic winters, expresses himself as follows:—
“They have discovered the western side of Ellesmere Island and the intricate system of fiords, as well as three large islands west of Ellesmere Island; they have explored the northern coast of North Devon; they have connected Belcher’s work with the coasts of Jones Sound; they have reached a point within 60 miles of Aldrich’s farthest; and they have discovered that land north of the Parry Islands, the existence of which was conjectured, as far west as the longitude of the eastern coast of Melville Island. This includes the discovery of the northern sides of North Cornwall and Findlay Islands. In addition to the main Arctic problem which is thus solved, it is likely that the regions discovered will be of exceptional interest, from the winds and currents, the varying character of the ice, the existence of coal-beds, and the abundance of animal life. A systematic survey has been made of these important discoveries, checked by astronomical observations.”
“We must look forward,” concludes Markham, “to an account of these things, and to the details of the expedition, with the deepest interest; and meanwhile we may well express admiration for the way in which the work was conceived and executed, and at the perfect harmony with which all loyally worked under their chief. Without such harmonious work, success was not possible.”
The Norwegian, Otto Neumann Sverdrup, was born in Bindalen, in Helgeland, in 1855. At seventeen years of age he went to sea, passed his mate’s examination in 1878, and for some years was captain of a ship. He accompanied Nansen on the Greenland expedition in 1888-1889 and was captain of the Fram on Nansen’s famous Polar voyage. A few days after the return of this expedition in September, 1896, while the Fram was lying in Lysaker Bay, Dr. Nansen came aboard one morning.
“Do you still wish to go on another expedition to the north?” he asked Sverdrup.
“Yes, certainly, if only I had the chance,” came the prompt reply.
FOUR YEARS’ VOYAGE OF THE “FRAM”
Then Nansen told him that Consul Axel Heiberg and the firm of brewers, Messrs. Ringnes Brothers, were willing to finance and equip another scientific Polar expedition, with Captain Sverdrup as leader.
Anthony Fiala
Courtesy of Doubleday, Page and Co.
The Fram was loaned by the Norwegian government, and about eleven hundred pounds was granted by the “Storthing” for necessary alterations and repairs. The personnel of the expedition was most carefully selected, including Lieutenant Victor Banman of the Norwegian Navy, Lieutenant Ingvald Isachsen of the Army, the botanist Herman Georg Simmons, a graduate of the University of Lund; and Edvard Bay, zoölogist, a graduate of the University of Copenhagen, the latter a member of Lieutenant Ryder’s expedition to the east coast of Greenland in 1891.
The Fram was ready for sea, June 24, 1898, and left her moorings with the quay packed with people and the fiord covered with small craft “which had come to see the last of us and wish us a safe return home.”
Captain Sverdrup’s original plan was to push through Kennedy and Robeson channels and as far along the north coast of Greenland as possible before seeking winter quarters. The unfavourable seasons of 1898-1899 prevented him from carrying out his intentions, and he fortunately turned his attention to Jones Sound, which led to the completion of the most important Arctic work yet remaining; “namely, the discovery of what was hitherto unknown in the wide gap between Prince Patrick Island and Aldrich’s farthest.”
Frustrated in his attempt to enter Kane Basin, Sverdrup wintered in Rice Strait, west of Cape Sabine. Immediate preparations were made for passing the cold season, and scientific observations and exploring trips occupied the autumn.
In describing the sun sinking out of sight, Sunday, October 16, 1898, Sverdrup says:—
“We were looking at the sun for the last time that year. Its pale light lay dying over the ‘inland ice’; its disk, light red, was veiled on the horizon; it was like a day in the land of the dead. All light was so hopelessly cold, all life so far away. We stood and watched it until it sank; then everything became so still it made one shudder—as if the Almighty had deserted us, and shut the Gates of Heaven. The light died away across the mountains, and slowly vanished, while over us crept the great shades of the polar night, the night that kills all life. I think that each of us, as we stood there, felt his heart swell within him. Never before had we experienced homesickness like this—and little was said when we continued on our way.... Here came Franklin, with a hundred and thirty-eight men. The polar night stopped him; and not one returned. Here came Greely, with five and twenty men; six returned.... Well! there lay the Fram, stout and defiant, like a little fairy-house, in the midst of the polar night. It was warm and bright in her cabins, and we worked with a will from morning to night.”
Sledge journeys, including a visit to the Windward, Lieutenant Peary’s ship, and a personal interview with the explorer himself; visits to the Fram by neighbouring Eskimos and a brilliant journey across Ellesmere Land, occupied members of the Sverdrup expedition until May 17, 1899, when those on board the Fram celebrated with true patriotism the Independence Day of Norway.
On one of the early summer sledge journeys, Dr. Johan Svendsen sacrificed his life. Overrating his endurance, he had rapidly failed, and though he persisted in remaining in the field, his strength did not return. After a day’s work, Sverdrup came into camp, where Sclei and Simmons were cooking dinner. “The doctor said he felt much better,” writes Sverdrup; “the pain in his side was gone, and his eyes had so far recovered that he could sit inside the tent without spectacles.... I then asked him for a second time if he would not let me take him on board, now that we had all rested, but he would not hear of it, and said that he should prefer to remain where he was. I then offered to stay behind with him—we could collect insects and shoot seals together. But he would not let me defer the journey to Beitstadfjord, and said that the time would pass quickly, even when he was there alone. He could go out shooting, collect insects, and look after his dogs;—he would have plenty to do.... We got ready for our four days’ trip to Beitstadfjord, and the doctor helped us to carry down our things, lash the loads to the sledges, and harness the dogs. And then we said good-by to one another, little thinking what was about to happen.”
Four days later the absent party returned. “To our great sorrow we found the doctor dead.”
On June 16, 1899, Captain Sverdrup made the entry in his journal:—
“The flag is flying at half mast from the pole to-day. It is the first time it has been in this position on board the Fram, let us hope it will indeed be the last.”
The interesting journey across the “inland ice” of Ellesmere Land, by Isachsen and Braskerud was undertaken May 23, 1899, with food for thirty days, and instruments and equipment; a total weight of eight hundred and seventy-two pounds, divided equally upon the sledges, each drawn by six dogs. Choosing a route to the westward, Isachsen writes in his report:—
“About midnight on June 2, we saw from the high ground to the northwest the first sight of what, later, proved the west coast. It was a fiord-arm, which cut into the land in an easterly direction from the larger fiord lying almost due north and south. From the outer part of this fiord-arm a chain of mountains of equal heights ran in a southeasterly direction. Nearer, and in front of this chain, was a wide level waste—‘Brakerndflya.’ There was no snow, either on the waste or on the mountains. In one part only of the chain was a fragment of glacier to be seen hanging over the upper part of the mountain side. In the southeast the waste abutted immediately on the ‘inland ice.’”
Travelling over a glacier, they endeavoured to reach the bare land of the fiord; this they succeeded in doing, June 4. “Three converging glaciers fell into a glacier-lake, and the following day we drove on this down the valley, but only for a couple of miles, which was the extent of its length. The ice on it was about to break up.”
Having encamped, the two men rambled over a considerable area in the vicinity; finding luxuriant vegetation wherever there was bare land. At a distance some ten or eleven miles in a northwesterly direction, there was no “inland ice” west of the northernmost glaciers previously mentioned. After continuing their explorations for several days, they were forced to return through continued bad weather, fogs, and gales. On June 22, the thirtieth day since leaving the ship,—the food supply remaining was reduced to about fifty biscuits, ten and a half tablets of compressed lentils, about four pounds of pemmican, enough coffee for twice, six whole rounds, or seventy-two rations, of dog-food, and a half gallon of petroleum. After a delay of six days by the inclement weather and a slow and difficult progress to the top of Leffert Glacier, it was with joy that a relief party from the ship were met with, and “the following day we drove down Leffert Glacier, on splendid snow, and reached the Fram on Sunday, July 2, at five in the morning.”
On August 4, the conditions being more favourable than heretofore, Captain Sverdrup endeavoured to navigate the Fram through Kane Basin. In Payer Harbor an American steamer was sighted, going northeast. To the joy of all, the steamer signalled she had letters on board for the Norwegians.
The attempt to penetrate Kane Basin was unsuccessful; the Fram was forced back to Foulke Fjord, a short distance from one of Peary’s ships. Captain Bartlett, Dr. Diedrick, and one or two other members of the expedition exchanged courtesies with the Norwegians. Mr. Bridgman and Professor Libbey came aboard the Fram.
SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS
It was learned that the mail brought north had been left at Payer Harbor. The Fram endeavoured to get it, but the impenetrable pack prevented, and after the most desperate efforts they gave up in despair. It was at this juncture, after the abandonment of the plan to trace the northern extremity of Greenland, that Sverdrup transferred his base to the fiords of the north coast of Jones Sound. Securing no less than thirty-three walrus for dog-food, the Fram established the second winter quarters at Havnefjord in 96° 29´ N., 84° 25´ W. Game and seals were found in plenty during the autumn, also musk-oxen, hares, and reindeer. Most successful scientific researches were promoted, sledging parties continued explorations, and the only event to mar a happy autumn was the death of Braskerud. He had had a very bad cold, was ill a fortnight with a cough and had great difficulty in breathing, but had suffered no pain; there was no doctor, and nothing could be done to relieve him; he had kept his bed the last three days of his illness, and no one dreamed the end was so near.
Preparations for the “grand sledge journey” of the spring kept the men busy during the winter and early in the season Isachsen, Bay, Schei, and Stolz, each man with a full load, went to examine the outlying depots placed the previous fall. At Björneborg, the ravages of bears had caused loss of food and damaged equipment, and this serious menace to the success of the future journeys decided Captain Sverdrup to place a watchman at this lonely and isolated spot. Bay, the zoölogist, volunteered for the duty and was appointed “Commandant of Björneborg.”
“On March 7,” writes Sverdrup, “Fosheim and I started west in company with the newly appointed commandant. A little after twelve the following day we arrived at the boat-house.... After finishing our work we had dinner, which was as sustaining as it was splendid, and consisted of boiled beef, sausage, soup, and green peas. After dinner we had drams and coffee, and after supper grog. Early next morning, and on good ice, we drove on, running by the side of the loads nearly the whole day to increase the pace. We reached Björneborg in the evening, where we found our new depot in good order.
“Next day we set to work on the erection of the Commandant’s residence. We built a very respectable house.... Like other residences of the kind, ‘Björneborg’ must have its flag, we thought, and as we were in possession of a flagstaff, which, considering our circumstances, was irreproachable, we secured it to the roof, and ran up a 17th of May flag. But our Commandant was economical, and would only use it on occasions of especial ceremony.
“Here Bay lived, absolutely alone, for three months, and during the first part of the time without so much as a living being for company; afterwards he had a garrison consisting of a whole watch-dog. During all this long period I never saw him out of spirits.”
The following day, Sverdrup and Fosheim made an examination of the ice, which in the fiords was rugged and hummocky. Upon the return to the ship it was decided that Banmann, leading the supporting party, should leave the ship Saturday, March 17, with full loads, “with Björneborg as their destination; returning thence to the boat-house to fetch provisions and dog-food, which were to be used on the approaching journeys westward.”
For these journeys, Isachsen and Hassel were to make one party, Fosheim and Sverdrup the second, Schei and Peder the third. All were to meet at Björneborg on March 21, later to separate and journey in different directions.
The following rations were allotted to the different parties:—
| Banmann and his men, | 240 days’ rations, about 530 pounds. |
| Isachsen and Hassel, | 100 days’ rations, about 220 pounds. |
| Sverdrup and Fosheim, | 100 days’ rations, about 200 pounds. |
| Schei and Peder, | 80 days’ rations, about 175 pounds. |
| Bay, | 90 days’ rations, about 200 pounds. |
SLEDGE JOURNEYS
The “Great Expedition,” upon which so much thought and care had been expended, was ready to start, March 20, 1900. “The weather was beautiful,” writes Sverdrup, “and we drove out through the sound, east of Skreia, at a smart pace, taking, when south of it, a line direct for South Cape.”
On this journey in which Sverdrup and Fosheim traced the west shore of Ellesmere Land to 80° 50´ N., a serious, yet amusing, incident occurred. “At certain places on our way,” writes Sverdrup, “we came across huge rocks, some of which were as big as a cottage, and round them the snow had drifted to such a height that we could only just see the top. When we came nearer, we found that, as a rule, the wind had hollowed out a large empty space between the drift, and we were often met by a yawning pitfall twelve to eighteen feet in depth.... I should mention that we were obliged to drive above the rocks, as below was the open sea.... It once happened that, just as we were passing a rock of this kind, a gap occurred between my sledge and the one following it. As soon as I became aware of this, I pulled up; but almost before I knew what was taking place, the dogs had made their usual frantic rush to catch up, and the sledge, men, and team were precipitated into the hole twelve feet below. A moment afterwards, before anything could be done to prevent it, the next sledge came tearing up and fell into the hole, and on the heels of number two came a third, which followed their example.... In the grave lay pell-mell three men, eighteen dogs, and three sledges with their loads, and the snow was flying up from it in clouds. Here and there a sledge runner, or a sealskin strap, was sticking out. Then I saw one of the men crawling out of the medley and pulling himself together, then another, and another. Thank God, they were all alive! And the dogs? They were lying in a black heap, one team on top of the other, kicking, howling, and fighting, till we could hardly hear the men’s voices for their noise, so, apparently, they, too, were alive. As soon as we had hauled them all up, we set to work to shovel part of the drift away so that we could drag up the loads. The first sledge, which, after much toil, we succeeded in bringing up, strange to say, was whole, nor was there anything wrong with number two, while number three was as intact as the two former. The very astonishing result of this flight through the air was, therefore, that not a limb, nor a lashing, nor bit of wood was broken.”
While the travellers were in the field pursuing their perilous and exciting adventures, the Commandant at Björneborg was leading a lonely and monotonous life awaiting his chance to annihilate marauding Bruins. His first call to arms came soon after Captain Sverdrup’s departure. Late one night, while half asleep, the Commandant, at that time without a garrison, thought he heard a faint sound in the depot. “I only turned round in the bag,” he says, “and inwardly cursed Hassel’s dogs, which were loose again and ransacking the depot. I was on the point of falling asleep once more, when it began to dawn on me that my reasoning had been wrong, for there were no dogs within many miles, and therewith I heard a crash, which seemed to make the earth tremble. A moment later I was out of the bag, had dragged my gun from its cover, and cocked it, for it suddenly occurred to me that my guest was a serious one. The first thing I did was to light the lamp, after which I began to move away some tins I had put in front of the door, that night for the first time, to keep it in place. The sounds still continued at the depot, but, in moving the last tin, I happened to make a slight noise, and then everything became as still as death. I raised the door and crept out. It was one o’clock (I had looked at my watch when I lit the lamp), and much darker than was pleasant for the work before me.
Roald Amundsen
Courtesy of Constable and Co., London, and E. P. Dutton and Co.
“The bear, meanwhile, had made itself quite at home. In order to get at one of the blubber-cases, it had thrust the empty boxes out of its way, and had thrown down one of the dog-food boxes which had been placed on the cases of blubber. The marks of all its claws were clearly visible in the tin. The other box was open, and the bear had tasted a couple of rations, but had evidently not found them to his liking, for he had spat them out again into the box. It had then very carefully lifted the tin down on to the snow, and then—also very carefully—raised the lid of the blubber box. But just as it was going to begin its meal, it had evidently heard my clatter inside the hut, and had sat down to listen, with its right paw clasping the edge of the box. It was in this position at any rate that I found it, when I raised myself up, after creeping out. The bear was about fifteen yards away from me, and as soon as it saw me rose, large, and fat and hissing; it made the open tin rattle as it put its left paw down on it. It looked just as if it were thumping the table, to show what a fine fellow it was, and reminded me of one of my friends on board—so much so that I half unwittingly addressed it in the way usual between us; a manner, however, hardly fit for publication. Whether the bear felt offended at this I know not, but certain it is that it got up and walked, growling, with long measured steps round the depot. I aimed, and shot it in the shoulder; I could just discern the sights through the darkness.” “The bear uttered such a loud growl,” continues the Commandant, “that it seemed to make the stillness ring. The fire from my gun had dazzled me, and I could no longer see the sights, and the bear itself I only saw as a shapeless mass, which seemed to have grown most incredibly larger. The other barrel, the small-shot barrel, which was loaded with a large ball, I fired straight into the mass without going through any such formality as aiming. Then I made a well-ordered retreat behind the hut, and put in some fresh cartridges. I do not much believe in hurrying, but I did this in less time than it takes to tell. To my great astonishment I did not see anything—not that I wanted to—of my enemy during this operation, but as soon as I was ready, I began to peer about after it, though at first without success. At last, on bending down, I caught sight of a large dark object a short distance away, at a spot where I knew there was no rock,—this, of course, must be the bear, but whether dead or alive it was impossible to tell. I therefore advanced with much caution, and fired a shot at what I supposed to be its head. On closer examination it proved to be the other end of the bear I had bombarded; but as a zoölogist I, of course, knew that the head in Ursus maritimus is, as a rule, exactly at the opposite extremity to the after-end of the animal, and at last really succeeded in giving it some lead in the right place. The bear had, no doubt, been dead for some time, but discretion is the better part of valour. I then realized that I had killed my first bear; to say that I was proud is nowhere near the mark.”
The Commandant had other visits from bears while leading the hermit’s life at Björneborg, and the killing of a seal was also added to his achievements. On June 2, however, he left the castle where he had lived alone for almost a quarter of a year.—“It was not without a feeling of sadness,” he writes, “that I saw the last glimpse of the spot as we rounded the steep bluffs of Stormkap, for, although my life there had been solitary and monotonous enough,—except on occasions when it had been extremely lively,—I felt I was leaving a home where I knew every stone and every irregularity of the ground—a place I had known in calm and the glory of sunshine, as well as during the raging of the storms. And then, too, I had a feeling as if peace and quietness were at an end, for east of the Stormkap began for me the great busy world, which for so long now I had almost forgotten.”
A serious fire occurred on board the Fram, May 27, 1900. A spark from the galley falling upon the winter awning, was supposed to be the cause of the conflagration. The loss of paraffin-prepared kayaks, a quantity of skis, and wood and other valuables were consumed, but the chief danger, which threatened the safety of the ship and all on board, was the proximity of the fire to an iron tank containing fifty gallons of spirit; so great was the heat of the fire that, though the tank held, the tinning on the outside was found melted.
RELEASE FROM THE ICE
On August 9, after a summer of successful research, the conditions being favourable, Captain Sverdrup decided to push westward with the Fram. “Through the ice-free sound all went well,” he writes; “but farther out, east of the rocks, we entered the ice, and lay there ramming the whole day long. Whenever we got a chance we forged on full speed ahead; and when perforce we came to a standstill, we backed to get an impetus, and gave another ram.” Skirting the coast, the Fram pushed her difficult course to within about a mile and a half from North Devon, where on September 3, 1900, the ship was made ready for her third winter in the Arctic. On the 15th, a storm disrupted the pack, and quick action on the part of officers and men was required to prepare the Fram for the opening of the ice which suddenly released her. As quickly as possible she was bearing toward Cardigan Strait, and steered through in easy waters, finally anchoring in the good winter harbour of Gaasefjord. The land in the vicinity of this harbour was rich in game, fauna, and interesting fossils.
Captain Sverdrup describes a curious experience while out hunting. In a small valley he discovered countless hare-tracks, which crossed and recrossed one another in every direction, the snow in places having been trodden in hard runs. Calling his telescope to his aid, he made out what he had mistaken for a group of white stones a short distance off, to be a group of Arctic hares, thirty-one in number, evidently at rest, with one plainly acting as sentinel.
Although Sverdrup approached with great caution, the hare on guard suddenly took alarm and, starting up, ran wildly round her flock, striking her hind legs on the ground till it fairly resounded, then setting off at a brisk pace over the ridge of a hill, the others following in a long line and presently disappearing.
At a short distance two others, evidently not belonging to the other lot, remained by themselves. “I thought,” writes Sverdrup, “it would be interesting to go across to them if possible, and see what they were about, but realized I must make use of other tactics if I would approach near them. This, I thought, was a fitting moment to impersonate a reindeer, or some other kind of big game, and I made a valiant attempt to simulate their grazing movements backwards and forwards on the sward.... My tactics were so successful that, in the end, I was not much more than two or three yards away from them. It was quite touching to see these great innocent Arctic hares sitting only a few paces off, quietly gnawing roots. The only notice they vouchsafed me was an occasional sniff in my direction....
“I stayed long fraternizing with the hares down on the grass, and at last we did not mind each other in the very least. They went on with their occupations quite unconcernedly; I with mine. I felt something like Adam in Paradise before Eve came, and all that about the serpent happened.”
Hunting expeditions and autumnal sledge journeys at an end, the winter set in with plenty of work to do for every one on board the Fram. The smithy was called upon for endless labour; the taking of observations and the many other daily occupations caused the long Arctic night to pass with less monotony and depression. A visitation from wolves added excitement to the winter, and various methods were tried for their capture.
Cape Flora in early July, 1904
Courtesy of Doubleday, Page and Co.
The Coal Mine at Cape Flora, 600 Feet above the Level of the Sea
Courtesy of Doubleday, Page and Co.
“FRAM’S” SECOND POLAR EXPEDITION
The explorations of 1901 proved Heiberg Land to be an island, separated by Heureka Strait; this was explored as far as its junction with Greely Fjord, but another year remained before the Norwegian standard was carried to 81° 37´ N., 92° W., where it was raised, May 13, 1902, and the outline of coast completed to Aldrich’s farthest.
Having made one of the most brilliant records in Arctic history, the members of the Fram’s second polar expedition turned toward their native land, and on August 6, 1902, the Fram began her triumphant retreat from the Great White North.
“Homeward! What a strange ring in the simple word!” cries Captain Sverdrup. “On our long and laborious sledge journeys we had many a time used it when we thought of the Fram, and a good home the Fram had been these four years, warm and strong and well provided, but that was in another way. Now the longing for home coursed through our blood, and all the yearning, which we had thrust aside during these long years, broke loose, rang in our ears, and made our hearts beat faster. Half-forgotten memories and dawning hopes came back again. A sea of thoughts streamed in on us and tied our tongues in the midst of the joy at going home. It was a moment full of promise when we knew that we were looking for the last time on these mountains and fiords, which for so long had been the object and scene of our endeavor.”
September 26, the Fram reached Christiansand, and two days later she dropped anchor for a few hours at Langgrunden, off Horten. Quite a fleet of steamers and sailing-boats escorted her from Stavanger to Christiania, which was reached “on a beautiful Sunday which recalled to us the day, four years since, when we had gone the other way.” ... “So the Fram’s second polar expedition was at an end,” concludes Captain Sverdrup. “An approximate area of one hundred thousand square miles had been explored, and, in the name of the Norwegian King, taken possession of. If the members of the expedition have been able to do anything, this is owing in the first instance to the sacrifices of generous Norwegians; that we have not done more is, at any rate, not owing to want of will.”
The successful navigation of the long-sought Northwest Passage by Captain Roald Amundsen has been one of the stirring events of the early twentieth century. Of this hardy Norseman, and what he accomplished, Mr. Alger gives an interesting account in Putnam’s Magazine:—
“Born July 16, 1872, at Borge, in the district of Smaalenene, southern Norway, he comes from an old sea-faring family, and has had much experience as a sailor. As an officer he took part in the Belgian South Pole expedition of 1897, on board the Belgica, and it was down in the Antarctic regions that he first planned his famous Arctic voyage. On the whaler, Gjoa, a ship of only 46 tons, he left Christiania in May, 1903, with a crew of seven men; and three years later, in the summer of 1906, the news was spread over the world that he had accomplished what no man before him had succeeded in doing. He had not only sailed through the Northwest Passage, but had located the Magnetic Pole and otherwise gathered much scientific information of the greatest value in regard to these little-known regions.”
The Gjoa was especially strengthened and refitted throughout. She was amply provisioned for five years, and her crew most carefully selected. Second in command was Lieutenant Godfred Hansen of the Danish Navy. First mate Auto Lund of Tromsoe had had long years of service in the sealing trade. Peder Ristredt, a sergeant in the Norwegian Army, was first engineer. Helmer Hansen, also an experienced sealer, a good snow-shoer and hunter, was second mate. Gustav Juel, second engineer, was to take part in the magnetic observations, but he died on the trip from pneumonia, in March, 1906. Adolf Linstrom served as cook, having served in the same capacity aboard the Fram.
Sailing at midnight, June 16, 1903, from Christiania, Cape Farewell, Greenland was sighted five weeks later. Securing ten fine dogs at Godhaven from Herr Dongaad Jensen, Inspector for North Greenland, they entered Melville Bay, August 8. On August 15, they came in sight of Dalrymple Rock; at this point two Scotch whaling captains—Milne and Adams—had deposited certain stores for Amundsen. The Gjoa was unexpectedly met in kayaks by members of the Danish Literary Greenland expedition, Herr Mylius Eriksen and Herr Knut Rasmussen. An exchange of courtesies was followed by the loading of the Gjoa with the packages from Dalrymple Rock. Pushing through the lanes, at full steam, they emerged into open water in Baffin Bay, and later entered Lancaster Sound, anchoring at Beechey, August 22. On August 24, they pushed into Peel Sound. The efficiency of the compass now ceased, and they were compelled to navigate by the stars whenever they appeared through the fog, which prevailed most of the time. Passing along the west coast of Boothia Felix, they came to grief by grounding on September 1 and were obliged to “lighten the ship by throwing overboard the greater part of the deck cargo. On Saturday, September 12, entered Gjoa Harbor”—a small landlocked cove at the head of Petersen Bay (King William Land), and here they remained for nearly two years.
SCIENTIFIC OBSERVATIONS
Immediate preparations were made for wintering, provisions landed, observatories erected, and Amundsen at once began his valuable scientific observations.
“In order to ensure accuracy,” writes General Greely in the Century, 1907, “the magnetic instruments were installed in temporary wooden buildings, built with copper nails, and entirely free of any iron, heat, or even light, except the lamp behind the reflector. Here day and night, for twenty months, were made photograph records, and these were supplemented by personal eye-readings to serve as needful checks on those photographically obtained. The observers in this work were clothed entirely in deerskin garments, and before entering the building where the magnetometres were installed, carefully divested themselves of watches, keys, knives, and other metallic objects. The observations were made in winter under such conditions of cold, monotony, and darkness as to merit the highest commendation for endurance and constancy.” And he continues, “The value of the continuous observations at Gjoa Harbor was largely increased by similar observations in the field, which necessarily entailed severe exposure and consequent hardships on the sledging parties. In March, 1904, a preliminary journey, made for the purpose of establishing food depots, involved much suffering owing to excessive cold, the temperature falling to 79° below zero, Fahr. The sledge journey to the Magnetic Pole itself was made by Amundsen and Ristvedt, starting April 2, 1904, with ten dogs and two sledges, much difficulty resulting from rough ice.
“Five observation stations were occupied between Gjoa Harbor and Tasmania Islands, which are about eighty miles directly north of Ross’s magnetic pole. This field work occupied about two months, being summarily finished at the end of May, owing to loss of food through the thieving Itchnachtorviks of eastern Boothia. While no definite result of the field observations can yet be given, it is not thought that there has been any decided change from the magnetic conditions observed by Ross in 1831, when the pole of declination was in the neighborhood of Cape Adelaide, 70° 05´ N., 96° 44´ W.”
On April 1, 1905, Lieutenant Hansen and Ristvedt, with two sledges, twelve dogs, and provisions for three months, visited Victoria, and after charting half of the missing coastline returned June 24.
Neighbours were not lacking these isolated white men. Frequent visits from Eskimos, and the news of American fishermen to the south, permitted of letters being forwarded by Eskimos.
AUGUST 14, 1906
On August 14, 1906, all conditions being favourable, the Gjoa weighed anchor and proceeded westward in open water, and within a few hours had successfully passed through Etta Sound, the narrowest place in the Northwest Passage, a tortuous channel between Etta Island and the mainland. The following day they threaded their way through a group of newly discovered islands in shallows that constantly necessitated the use of the lead.
A heavy pack was encountered in Victoria Strait, but they continued on their way “through the strait between Victoria Land and the mainland,” thence through “Dease Strait and Coronation Gulf out into Dolphin and Union straits, and on the morning of August 25 sighted Nelson Head—a tall and imposing headland.”
Having successfully passed from the Atlantic side into the Pacific side, the Gjoa had the good fortune to speak on the same day the American whaling schooner, Charles Hansson, from San Francisco. A delay of twenty-four hours was caused by the ice off Cape Bathurst. Near Bailey Island, several beset whalers were encountered, and the barks Alexander and Bowhead were sighted off Pullen Island.
Cape Sabine was reached September 2—but progress was only made to King Point, about thirty-five miles east of Herschel Island, where the Gjoa was forced to put in another Arctic winter.
On October 13, Amundsen, with a sledge and five dogs, made a journey of five months’ duration, covering a distance of fifteen hundred miles to Eagle City, Alaska. This included a two months’ sojourn in Eagle City, when all despatches were forwarded, and mails received, for himself and other members of the expedition.
The following August, the Gjoa was freed, but on the 19th of that month she received a bad injury to her propeller by grounding on a piece of ice, so continued her journey entirely under sail. She arrived at San Francisco, October 19, with a rich cargo of ethnographical, zoölogical, and botanical specimens, and many furs and curios. These were freighted to Christiania, the Gjoa taken charge of by Admiral Lyons, commandant of the Mare Island Navy-yard, and Amundsen and his companions started by rail for home.