Weighted by his stiff, heavy, grease-sodden clothes, he had the utmost difficulty in swimming at all; but there was a greater handicap even than his clothes in the low temperature of the water. It struck through him with a chill which reached to his bones, numbing his muscles, and making his joints lose their suppleness. The breeze which was blowing helped the kayaks along, but only increased his discomfort. Soon he felt that the fight was only a matter of minutes for as the coldness numbed him more and more, he realised that unless he overtook the kayaks quickly he would go to the bottom like a stone. The cold penetrated to his lungs, so that he gasped for breath; his hands and feet lost all feeling, and his eyes were growing blurred as he nerved himself for a final desperate struggle. Swimming as hard as his strength of will and muscle could command, he succeeded in coming within touch of the light drifting craft. The fact that the two were fastened together was of the utmost importance under the circumstances, for had they been separate he could never have clambered into one in his benumbed and exhausted condition. As it was, he managed to get one arm over the ski which formed the coupling between the kayaks. His hands were too cold to grip and he hung for a few seconds resting, till the growing chill in his limbs warned him of the danger he was in of becoming frozen. With a superb effort of determination, he raised himself until he was able to lift a leg over the side of one of the kayaks, and then struggled on board, where he lay for a minute or so trying to recover his breath.
Still fearing the cold, he grasped a paddle and set to work vigorously to force the kayaks back to the ice on which Johansen was standing. The exertion caused his blood to circulate once more, and, by the time he had reached the ice, the deadly chill was out of his frame. There were no dry clothes to put on in place of his wet ones, and all that could be done was to wring them out, and then, working hard to keep up his circulation, wait till they dried on his back.
In order to prevent another such occurrence, the kayaks were freed from each other, Nansen occupying one with half the provisions and stores, and Johansen the other. Two days after the break away they had reason to be thankful they had made this arrangement. They were skirting along the ice at the time, and suddenly came upon a herd of walrus. Instead of quietly watching them go past, as was usually the case, a huge bull slid off the ice with a roar, and swam rapidly towards Nansen's kayak.
Diving as he came near to it, Nansen anticipated that he intended rising immediately underneath it, and so capsizing it. He therefore paddled as hard as he could, when the walrus rose by his side. It reared high out of the water, towering over the kayak and its occupant, and only by the quickest of manœuvres was Nansen able to avoid having it fall upon him. Baulked in that attempt, the walrus swam alongside and, plunging its tusks through the frail covering of the kayak, strove to upset it with its flipper.
Nansen swung his paddle in the air, and bringing it down with all his strength on the monster's head, caused it again to rear in the water. Paddling furiously directly the brute's tusks were withdrawn, he managed to elude it till it sank, when he made for the ice, reaching it just in time, the water having almost swamped the kayak through the holes the walrus had made with his tusks.
When the damaged kayak was taken out of the water, the injury was found to be more extensive than at first supposed. The two explorers determined to stay where they were for a few days, so as to thoroughly overhaul and repair their kayaks, and have a good rest before commencing the difficult journey which was to be negotiated before they could arrive at Spitzbergen. They made as comfortable a camp as they could on the ice, and, after supper, got into the sleeping-bag and rested peacefully. Nansen was first awake, and, having crept out of the bag, set to work preparing breakfast. It was ready before Johansen was, and not wishing to disturb his comrade, Nansen put on his ski and set out for a "constitutional" over the ice. He had not proceeded far when he heard a sound which made his heart jump. It was the bark of a dog.
Hurrying back, he told Johansen, and then set out in the direction whence the sound had come, in search of, as he believed, a whaling ship. He had not gone very far when he saw in the distance two moving specks. There was evidently a whaler in the neighbourhood, he told himself, and redoubled his efforts. As he approached the two specks they became clearer, until he saw distinctly that one was a man and the other a dog.
The man noticed him and waved his hat, to which Nansen replied by waving his; as they came nearer, he heard the man speak to his dog in English.
"How do you do?" he said to Nansen when they met.
"How do you do?" Nansen answered, as they shook hands. "Are you wintering near here?"