“When, after having concluded my calculations, I had taken a nap and again turned out at midday to-day, the condition of the snow proved to be no better; in fact, rather worse. The new snow was wet and sticky and the going as heavy as it well could be. However, it was necessary to make an attempt to get on; there was nothing gained by waiting there, and progress is progress be it ever so little.
“I took a single altitude about midday, but it was not sharp.
“Saturday, June 15th. The middle of June, and still no prospect of an end to this; things only became worse instead. So bad as yesterday, though, it had never been, and worse, happily, it can hardly be. The sledges ran terribly heavy in the loose, wet, newly fallen snow, which was deep to boot; and sometimes when they stopped—and that was continually—they stuck as if glued to the spot. It was all we could do to move them when we pushed with all our might. Then to this was added the fact that one’s snow-shoes ran equally badly, and masses of snow collected underneath them the minute one stopped; one’s feet kept twisting continually from this, and ice formed under them, so that one suddenly slid off the snow-shoes and into the snow, till far above one’s knees, when one tried to pull or help the sledges; but there was nothing for it but to scramble up and on to them again. To wade along in such snow without them is an impossibility, and, as I have said before, though fastening them on securely would have been a better plan, yet it would have been too troublesome, seeing that we had to take them off continually to get the sledges over ridges and lanes. In addition to all this, wherever one turns, the ice is uneven and full of mounds and old ridges, and it is only by wriggling along like an eel, so to speak, that one can get on at all. There are lanes, too, and they compel one to make long detours or go long distances over thin, small floes, ridges, and other abominations. We struggled along, however, a little way, working on our old plan of two turns, but a quick method it could not be called. The dogs are becoming more and more worn out. ‘Lilleræven,’ the last survivor of my team, can now hardly walk—hauling there is no question of: he staggers like a drunken man, and when he falls can hardly rise to his feet again. To-day he is going to be killed, I am thankful to say, and one will be spared seeing him. ‘Storræven,’ too, is getting very slack in the traces; the only one of mine which pulls at all is ‘Kaifas,’ and that is only as long as one of us is helping behind. To keep on longer in such circumstances is only wearing out men and dogs to no purpose, and is also using up more provender than is necessary. We therefore renounced dinner, and halted at about ten yesterday evening, after having begun the march at half-past four in the afternoon. I had, however, stopped to take an observation on the way. It is not easy to get hold of the sun nowadays, and one must make the most of him when he is to be seen through the driving clouds; clear he will never be. Yesterday afternoon, after an unconscionable wait, and after having put up the instrument in vain a couple of times, I finally got a wretched single altitude.
“Yesterday evening I reckoned out these observations and find that, contrary to our expectations, we have drifted strongly westward, having come from 61° 16′ E., which was our longitude on June 4th, right to about 57° 40′ E. But then we have also drifted a good way north again, up to 82° 26′ N., after being down in 82° 17.8′ on the same date, and we have been pushing southward as hard as we could the whole time. However, we are glad to see that there is so much movement in the ice, for then there is hope of our drifting out eventually towards open water; for that we can get there by our own efforts alone over this shocking ice I am beginning to doubt. This country and this going are too bad, and my hope now is in lanes and slack ice. Happily, a northeast wind has sprung up. Yesterday there was a fresh breeze from the north-northwest (magnetic), and the same again to-day. Only let it blow on; if it has set us northwest it can also set us southwest, and eventually out towards our goal—towards Franz Josef Land or Spitzbergen. I doubt more than ever our being east of Cape Fligely after this observation, and I begin to believe more and more in the possibility that the first land we shall see—if we see any, and I hope we may—will be Spitzbergen. In that case we should not even get a glimpse of Franz Josef Land, the land of which I have dreamed golden dreams day and night. But still, if it is not to be, then well and good. Spitzbergen is good enough, and if we are as far west as we seem to be, I have greater hope than before of finding slacker ice and open water; and then for Spitzbergen! But there is still a serious question to be faced, and that is to procure ourselves enough food for the journey.
“I have slept here some time on purpose, after having spent a good while on my calculations and speculations as to our drift and our future. We have nothing to hurry for in this state of the snow; it is hardly better to-day than it was yesterday, and then, on account of the mild temperature, it is better to travel by night than by day. The best thing to do is to spin out the time as long as possible without consuming more than absolutely necessary of the provisions; the summer cannot but improve matters, and we have still three months of it before us. The question is, can we procure ourselves food during that time? It would be strange, I think, if we could not. There are birds about continually; I saw another large gull yesterday, probably the herring or silver gull (Larus argentatus); but to support life for any length of time on such small fry we have not cartridges enough. On seal or bear all my hopes are fixed; just one before our provisions give out, and the evil hour is warded off for a long time to come.
“Sunday, June 16th. Yesterday was as bad as it well could be—the surface enough to make one desperate and the ice rough. I very much doubted whether the wisest thing would not be to kill the dogs and keep them as food for ourselves, and try to make our way on as best we could without them. In that manner we should have provender for fifteen or perhaps twenty days longer, and should be able to make some progress at the same time. There does not seem much to be done in that line, however, and perhaps the right thing to do is to wait. But, on the other hand, perhaps, it is not far to land or open water, or, at any rate, to slack ice, and then every mile we can make southward is of importance. I have therefore come to the conclusion that we must use the dogs to get on with as best we can—perhaps there will be a change before we expect it; if nothing else, then, perhaps, some better ice, like that we had before. Meanwhile we were obliged to kill two dogs yesterday. ‘Lilleræven’ could hardly go when we started; his legs seemed to be quite paralyzed, and he fell down and could not get up again. After I had dragged him and the sledge for a time and had tried in vain to make him go, I had to put him on the load, and when we came to some hummocks where there was shelter from the north wind, Johansen killed him, while I went forward to find a way. Meanwhile my other dog, ‘Storræven,’ was in almost as bad a plight. Haul he could not, and the difficulty was to make him go on so that he was not dragged with the sledge. He went a little way, stumbling and falling, and being helped up repeatedly; but soon he was just as bad as ‘Lilleræven’ had been, lagged behind, got the traces under the sledge runners, and was dragged with it. As I thought I had enough to do in hauling the sledge, I let him go, in the hope that he would, at any rate, follow us. He did so for a little while, but then stopped behind, and Johansen was compelled to fetch him and put him on his load, and when we camped he was killed too.
“‘Kaifas’ is the only dog I have left to help me haul my sledge, and Johansen has ‘Haren’ and ‘Suggen.’ We have rations for them for ten days from the two slaughtered dogs, but how far we shall be able to get with them the gods alone know. Not very far, I am afraid. Meanwhile our hitherto somewhat primitive method of hauling had to be improved on. With two dog-harnesses we accordingly made ourselves proper hauling-gear,[8] and therewith all idea of using snow-shoes not securely fastened on had to be abandoned. One’s feet twisted and slipped and slid off the snow-shoes and deep down into the bottomless snow, which, in addition, turned to ice under our feet, and with our smooth komager soles was as slippery as eelskin to stand on. Then we fastened them on, and where the ice was even it really was possible to drag the sledge, even with only one dog beside one. I saw that, given passable snow and passable country to work on, we could make some progress during the day, though as soon as there was the slightest irregularity in the ice the sledges stood perfectly still. It was necessary to strain at the harness all one knew, and then perhaps fail to make the sledge budge an inch. Then back one had to go to it, and after exerting one’s strength to the utmost it would finally glide over the obstacle and on towards a new one, where exactly the same process had to be gone through. If it was wished to turn the sledge in the deep snow where it stood embedded, matters were no better; it was only by lifting it bodily that one could get it on at all. So we went on step by step until perhaps we came on a small extent of level ice where we could increase the pace. If, however, we came on lanes and ridges, things were worse than ever; one man cannot manage a sledge alone, but two must be put to each sledge. Then when we have followed up the track I have marked out beforehand I have to start off again and find a way between the hummocks. To go direct, hauling the sledge, is not advisable where the ice is uneven, as it only means getting into difficulties and being constrained eventually to turn back. In this way we are grinding along, but it goes without saying that speed and long marches are not the order of the day. But still, as it is we make a little way, and that is better than nothing; it is, besides, the only thing we can do, seeing that it is impossible to crawl into a lair and hibernate for a month or so till progress is possible again.
Suggen
