“The sledges have again been unloaded and brought on board in order that this may be done, and here we are again to-night. I am glad, however, that this happened when it did; it would have been worse to have had such an experience a few days later. I will now take six sledges instead of four, so that the load on each may be less, and so that it will be easier to lift them over the irregularities of the ground. I shall also have a broad board fitted lengthwise to the sledge, underneath the crossbars, so as to protect them against projecting pieces of ice. As a great deal of time is saved in the end by doing such things thoroughly before starting, we shall not be ready to start before the day after to-morrow. It seemed strange to be on board again after having said good-bye, as I thought, forever, to these surroundings. When I came up on the after-deck, I found the guns lying there in the snow, one of them turned over on its back, the other had recoiled a long way aft, when saluting us; from the mizzen-top the red and black flag was still waving.
“I am in wonderfully high spirits, and feel confident of success; the sledges seemed to glide so easily, although carrying 200 pounds more than was originally intended (about 2200 pounds altogether), and everything looks very promising. We shall have to wait a couple of days, but as we are having a southeasterly wind all day long we are no doubt getting on towards the north, all the same. Yesterday we were 83° 47′; to-day I suppose we are at least 83° 50′.”
At last, on Thursday, February 28th, we started again with our six sledges. Sverdrup, Hansen, Blessing, Henriksen, and Mogstad saw us off. When we started, most of the others also accompanied us some distance. We soon found that the dogs did not draw as well as I had expected, and I came to the conclusion that with this load we should get on too slowly. We had not proceeded far from the ship before I decided to leave behind some of the sacks with provisions for the dogs, and these were later on taken back on board by the others.
At 4 o’clock in the afternoon, when we stopped, our odometer[3] showed that we had gone about 4 miles from the Fram. We had a pleasant evening in the tent, together with our friends who were going back the next day. To my surprise a punch-bowl was prepared, and toasts were proposed for those who were starting and those who remained behind. It was not until 11 o’clock that we crept into our sleeping-bags.
There were illuminations in our honor that night on board the Fram. The electric arc lamp was hoisted on the maintop, and the electric light for the first time shone forth over the ice masses of the Polar Sea. Torches had also been lit, and bonfires of oakum-ends and other combustibles were burning on several floes around the Fram and making a brilliant show. Sverdrup had, by-the-way, given orders that the electric light or a lantern should be hoisted on the maintop every night until he and the others had returned, for fear they might lose their way if the tracks should be obliterated by bad weather. It would then be very difficult to find the ship; but such a light can be seen a long distance over these plains, where by merely standing on a hummock one can easily get a view for many miles round.
I was afraid that the dogs, if they got loose, would go back to the Fram, and I therefore got two steel lines made, to which short leashes were fastened a little distance apart, so that the dogs could be secured to these lines between two sticks or sledges. In spite of this, several of the dogs got loose; but, strange to say, they did not leave us, but remained with their comrades and us. There was, of course, a doleful howling round the tents the first night, and they disturbed our sleep to some extent.
The “Fram” in the Ice. 1895
The next morning (Friday, March 1st) it took one of our comrades three hours to make the coffee, being unaccustomed to the apparatus. We then had a very nice breakfast together. Not before 11.30 A.M. did we get under way. Our five comrades accompanied us for an hour or two and then turned to get back to the Fram the same evening. “It was certainly a most cheerful good-bye,” says the diary, “but it is always hard to part, even at 84°, and maybe there was a tearful eye or two.” The last thing Sverdrup asked me when sitting on his sledge, just as we were about to part, was, if I thought I should go to the South Pole when I got home; for if so, he hoped I would wait till he arrived; and then he asked me to give his love to his wife and child.
And so we proceeded, Johansen and I, but it was slow work for us alone with six sledges, which were impeded on their way by all sorts of obstacles and inequalities. Besides this, the ice became rougher, so that it was difficult to get on during the afternoon on account of the darkness, the days being still very short and the sun was not yet above the horizon. We therefore camped rather early.