Off the Edge of the Ice—Gathering Storm, 14th September 1893. Water-Colour Sketch.
“I had a sounding taken; it showed over 73 fathoms (135 m.), so we are in deeper water again. The sounding-line indicated that we are drifting southwest. I do not understand this steady drift southward. There has not been much wind either lately; there is certainly a little from the north to-day, but not strong. What can be the reason of it? With all my information, all my reasoning, all my putting of two and two together, I cannot account for any south-going current here—there ought to be a north-going one. If the current runs south here, how is that great open sea we steamed north across to be explained? and the bay we ended in farthest north? These could only be produced by the north-going current which I presupposed. The only thing which puts me out a bit is that west-going current which we had against us during our whole voyage along the Siberian coast. We are never going to be carried away south by the New Siberian Islands, and then west along the coast of Siberia, and then north by Cape Chelyuskin, the very way we came! That would be rather too much of a good thing—to say nothing of its being dead against every calculation.
“Well, who cares? Somewhere we must go; we can’t stay here forever. ‘It will all come right in the end,’ as the saying goes; but I wish we could get on a little faster wherever we are going. On our Greenland expedition, too, we were carried south to begin with, and that ended well.
“Sunday, October 22d. Henriksen took soundings this morning, and found 70 fathoms (129 m.) of water. ‘If we are drifting at all,’ said he, ‘it is to the east; but there seems to be almost no movement.’ No wind to-day. I am keeping in my den.
“Monday, October 23d. Still in the den. To-day, 5 fathoms shallower than yesterday. The line points southwest, which means that we are drifting northeast-ward. Hansen has reckoned out the observation for the 19th, and finds that we must have got 10 minutes farther north, and must be in 78° 15′ N. lat. So at last, now that the wind has gone down, the north-going current is making itself felt. Some channels have opened near us, one along the side of the ship, and one ahead, near the old channel. Only slight signs of pressure in the afternoon.
“Tuesday, October 24th. Between 4 and 5 A.M. there was strong pressure, and the Fram was lifted up a little. It looks as if the pressure were going to begin again; we have spring-tide with full moon. The ice opened so much this morning that the Fram was afloat in her cutting; later on it closed again, and about 11 there was some strong pressure; then came a quiet time; but in the afternoon the pressure began once more, and was violent from 4 to 4.30. The Fram was shaken and lifted up; didn’t mind a bit. Peter gave it as his opinion that the pressure was coming from the northeast, for he had heard the noise approaching from that direction. Johansen let down the silk net for me about 11 fathoms. It was all he could do to get it up again in time, but it brought up a good catch. Am still keeping in.
“Wednesday, October 25th. We had a horrible pressure last night. I awoke and felt the Fram being lifted, shaken, and tossed about, and heard the loud cracking of the ice breaking against her sides. After listening for a little while I fell asleep again, with a snug feeling that it was good to be on board the Fram; it would be confoundedly uncomfortable to have to be ready to turn out every time there was a little pressure, or to have to go off with our bundles on our backs like the Tegethoff people.
“It is quickly getting darker. The sun stands lower and lower every time we see it; soon it will disappear altogether, if it has not done so already. The long, dark winter is upon us, and glad shall we be to see the spring; but nothing matters much if we could only begin to move north. There is now southwesterly wind, and the windmill, which has been ready for several days, has been tried at last and works splendidly. We have beautiful electric light to-day, though the wind has not been especially strong (5–8 m. per second). Electric lamps are a grand institution. What a strong influence light has on one’s spirits! There was a noticeable brightening-up at the dinner-table to-day; the light acted on our spirits like a draught of good wine. And how festive the saloon looks! We felt it quite a great occasion—drank Oscar Dickson’s health, and voted him the best of good fellows.
“Wonderful moonshine this evening, light as day; and along with it aurora borealis, yellow and strange in the white moonlight; a large ring round the moon—all this over the great stretch of white, shining ice, here and there in our neighborhood piled up high by the pressure. And in the midst of this silent silvery ice-world the windmill sweeps round its dark wings against the deep-blue sky and the aurora. A strange contrast: civilization making a sudden incursion into this frozen ghostly world.
“To-morrow is the Fram’s birthday. How many memories it recalls of the launch-day a year ago!