"It was the last night of our stay at the island," Peary wrote, "a night of such savage wildness as is possible only in the Arctic regions.... The wild gale was howling out of the depths of Melville Bay through the Hope's rigging and the snow was driving in horizontal lines. The white slopes of the hill down which the meteorite had been brought showed a ghastly grey through the darkness; the fire, round which the fur-clad forms of the Eskimo were grouped, spread its bright red glare for a short distance; a little to one side was a faint glow of light through the skin wall of a solitary tupik. Working about the meteorite was my own little party, and, in the foreground, the central figure, the raison d'être of it all, the 'Saviksoah,' the 'Iron Mountain,' towering above the human figures about it and standing out, black and uncompromising. While everything else was buried in snow, the Saviksoah was unaffected. The great flakes vanished as they touched it, and the effect was very impressive. It was as if the giant were saying, 'I am apart from all things; I am heaven-born, and still carry in my heart some of the warmth of those long-gone days before I was hurled upon this frozen desert.' To strengthen this fancy that the meteorite still held some of its celestial fire and feeling, if a sledge, ill aimed in the darkness at wedge or block, chanced to strike it, a spouting jet of scintillating sparks lit the gloom, and a deep note, sonorous as a bell, a Polar tocsin, or the half-pained, half-enraged bellow of a lost soul, answered the blow."
Yet another year—1897—saw Peary again at work, this time with the meteorite ready alongside the natural wharf. It was the month of August that the Hope made fast opposite the meteorite, but already the ice had begun to drift into the bay, as though even that were going to dispute the right of man to carry off the mighty trophy. Without loss of a day, work was commenced and a bridge of huge timbers was constructed along which to warp the mass from the shore on to the ship. The bridge completed, forty-eight hours were consumed in getting the mass on to it. The pressure of its enormous weight put so great a strain on the woodwork that it visibly gave as the mass came on to it, and more than once a collapse seemed imminent. Once a slip of less than an inch upset the equilibrium of everything to such an extent that the stays and supports were apparently within an ace of giving way. It was a curious coincidence that this single slip occurred at a moment and a place where, had anything given way, there was nothing to prevent the mass rolling over the edge of the rock and sinking, presumably for ever, into deep water. As it turned out, the slip was taken up in time to avert disaster, and thereafter the mass was forced, slowly but surely, on to the deck of the ship.
The Eskimo were greatly disturbed at the spectacle of the meteorite passing from the shore to the ship. They all left the vessel, saying that even if it was forced on to the deck, directly it arrived there it would smash its way through the vessel and plunge into the sea, carrying the ship and all on board with it. From the time work was recommenced on the task of removing the mass, storms and gales had persisted and the sun had not been seen. The Eskimo were, therefore, deeply impressed when, just as the Saviksoah reached the planking arranged for it above the main hold and the tackles were cast loose, the sun shone out, a ray falling from behind a cloud directly on the meteorite and changing it from the dull brown-hued mass into a gleaming bronze.
As though it had yielded itself to the inevitable, the meteorite gave no further trouble. It was gradually lowered into the hold and wedged so tightly into position that it was impossible for it to move, however much the ship rolled or pitched. Fortunate it was this work was so well done, for when the return journey was commenced the Hope had to fight her way through a series of the most severe gales and storms that any on board had experienced. The meteorite had yielded, but the Spirit of the Arctic evidently had serious objections to it being carried off. But the years of persistent effort had won. The mysterious source of the ancient Eskimo iron had been discovered, and, at the same time, the greatest meteorite the world was known to contain was revealed. It was a fitting result that the trophy should be carried from the darkness of the Arctic into the light of civilisation.
CHAPTER XI THE SECOND VOYAGE OF THE FRAM
Norwegian Enterprise—Mapping the Islands—Nearly Frozen—A Novel Warming-Pan—Eskimo Melody—Arctic Bull Fights—Death of the Doctor—Fire on the Fram—New Lands—Prehistoric People.
The expedition which formed the second visit of the Fram to the Arctic regions was equipped by private Norwegian enterprise, and sailed from Larvick on June 24, 1898, the day known in Norway as St. Hans Day. The party consisted of sixteen, all told, under the command of Captain Sverdrup, who, with two other members of the party, were in the Fram with Nansen on her previous voyage. The plan of operations was to proceed to the most southerly point of Greenland, sail to the north along the western coast to Smith Sound, where the ship was to push as far to the north as possible and form a headquarters, whence sledge expeditions were to be sent out in all directions to explore and survey the immediate locality, and, at the same time, to observe and record all natural phenomena of a scientific nature. As to the exact localities to which chief attention was to be paid, the commander of the expedition was to use his own judgment; but on one point the instructions were definite and emphatic—there was to be no attempt at a dash for the Pole.
On August 21 the Fram reached a suitable place for winter quarters. On the way along the Greenland coast the explorers had to take on board dogs for the sledge teams, and also to obtain a store of walrus meat wherewith to feed them, so that it was not until the date mentioned they were able to reach Rice Strait, which afforded them all the facilities they needed for winter quarters. As Peary was already to the north, engaged in mapping out the land in that direction, the Norwegians decided to give their attention to the land lying on the western side of the Strait, in the vicinity of Hayes Sound, where Nares, in 1875, had done considerable work. They completed the survey of the coast line running round Robeson Channel, and, during their stay, not only mapped out an area of one hundred thousand square miles, but also located hitherto undiscovered land, which was named after King Oscar of Norway and taken possession of in his name. Valuable additions were also made to the zoological, geological, meteorological, and botanical records, while the story of the expedition abounds in interesting experiences.