During the sledge journeys numerous indications were found of musk oxen being in the neighbourhood of the sheltered valleys in the interior of the islands. As a supply of fresh beef was always desirable, considerable attention was paid to these animals, and, from time to time, the larder was kept well supplied with their meat. On these hunting expeditions some interesting observations were made on the habits of the oxen. One of the most interesting was as to the manner in which they met attack. When they were disturbed in feeding, the herd would retreat slowly and in order; but if they saw they were being pursued, they moved towards any vantage ground, such as a rise or hill summit, there to form themselves into a square. Each animal took up its position as though by word of command, until they stood, shoulder to shoulder, with their heads outward and so close together that their horns often linked, while within the square were sheltered any young calves there might be with the herd.
As the enemy approached one of the oxen, usually the oldest bull in the herd, dashed out from his place in the square and bounded towards the foe, with head down, horns brandished with sidelong tosses of the head, snorting and bellowing defiance. As he left the square the ranks closed up and remained so until he returned, when the ranks opened enough for him to back into his place, while another charged out to carry on the combat in front of the square. These movements were executed with lightning rapidity, every animal dashing out in turn to seek single combat, the one to advance being always the one to the right of the returned champion. Usually the advance was for a distance of a dozen yards, but there were occasions when the explorers saw the challenging ox advance over a hundred yards from the main body.
When there were sufficient bulls in the herd to form the outer lines, the cows were placed, with the calves, inside the square; but if the bulls were not numerous enough to complete the outer ranks, then the cows took their places beside the bulls. In one instance, where the herd consisted of cows and calves only, the cows formed the square and carried on the fight while the calves were sheltered within.
The courage displayed by the oxen was not restricted to their defence. They appeared to be actuated by an esprit de corps which could only be likened to the heroism which animates men of fanatical fighting tribes. They were apparently incapable of fear, even to that extent which makes the saving of one's self a first consideration. When the square was once formed it never broke. Every beast in it might be killed, one by one, but there was never a sign of a break-away or a stampede. If only a few were killed, the square stood its ground until the attackers retreated, when, with an open field, the square slowly retired, still in formation, and still ready, at the first signal, to halt and renew the fight. In one instance, where every beast had been shot save one, that one made his sortie, pranced round in defiance, and retired to the heap of slain, all that remained of his gallant comrades.
Their method of defence was capable of repelling the attack of any animal now inhabiting the Arctic regions, and more complete in its system than appeared to be needed to repel any of the animals likely to attack them. It was unnecessary for the repelling of bears; foxes would never attack animals so large; the only animals likely to challenge a contest were the wolves operating in a pack. But the Arctic wolves, as a rule, hunt singly, or in pairs. There may have been a time, however, when they formed themselves into packs, and from such a time the defensive tactics of the oxen may date. Certainly the formation would prove invulnerable against such an attack, as was evidenced by the way in which a herd of oxen could hold at bay the dogs from the sledge teams. As soon as oxen were sighted it was the practice to let the dogs loose. They at once made for the oxen, and, as soon as the latter caught sight of them, they formed into a square and remained so until the explorers came up and selected such of the herd as they required for the larder. In no instance did the dogs succeed in harming an ox, though more than once a dog, venturing too near a prancing champion, was spun up into the air to fall to the ground a sad and subdued creature, if it were so fortunate as to escape with its life.
The return of summer, during the first year of their stay, was marred by the death of the doctor. Early in June the shores of Hayes Sound were being surveyed. The ice still covered the sea and the land was deep in snow. One night, when the surveying party had returned to their tent and were sitting round the oil stove eating their supper, they heard a man outside asking if he might come in. They opened the tent flap and discovered the doctor standing outside. He was evidently ill, and, as they soon realised, snow-blind. He had missed his way while out after specimens and had accidentally stumbled on the camp. He was taken in and given warm food, which revived him somewhat, afterwards being put in a sleeping-bag and made as comfortable as they could make him. In the morning he pronounced himself much better, and said he would stay at the camp, resting, for the day. The party left him with no misgivings, but on their return in the evening they found him dead in the sleeping-bag.
Camp was struck the following morning and, with the body of the doctor on the sledge, the party started back to the ship. It was a sad journey. Not only was it the first time in the history of the Fram that a member of the ship's company had died, but the loss of the doctor was a serious matter to the explorers, who were thus left without any qualified expert to attend to them in the event of either sickness or accident occurring. The procession reached the ship on June 15, and the next morning the whole company formed up in funeral array to convey the remains of the doctor to their last resting-place. They gave him a sailor's burial. The national flag covered the body and bier, and the explorers, walking slowly, two and two, proceeded down Rice Strait over the ice to a spot where a hole had been cut through the ice to the open water. The body was lowered to the water's edge, where it was held while prayers were read and a hymn sung. "Then followed the moment when he slowly slipped into the deep. We shall never forget it. We sang a hymn and said the Lord's Prayer," Captain Sverdrup wrote.
As the survey work advanced to the west of the Sound, the discovery of several inaccuracies in former maps led to the hope that new land might be located in that direction. Ellesmere Land having been explored and Sir Robert Inglis Peak shown to be non-existent, advantage was taken of the opening of the ice in the summer seasons to push the Fram farther to the west, so as to enable the sledge parties to reach still greater distances over the ice in that direction. It was by this means the crowning triumph of the expedition was achieved, though at the time of its achievement an event happened which very nearly brought about a tragic ending. This was no less than a fire on the Fram.
There were, at the time, only nine men on board. For the winter, an awning had been spread over the deck, below the shelter of which numerous articles were stored, including the ammunition and powder-boxes, a number of kayaks, spare wood for repairing sledges and making ski, the oil barrels, and an iron tank full of spirits. The chimney from the galley rose above this awning, and one day a spark fell upon it. At once the canvas burst into flame.
On the first alarm, the mate, who was in charge, gave his attention to the removal of the oil and explosives; but while these were being dragged out of danger the flames spread rapidly from the awning to the rigging, reaching the mainsail, which also became ignited. Then the fire reached the kayaks, the coverings of which were all saturated with grease. The blaze that followed set all the spare wood alight. The iron tank, full of spirits, was thus surrounded by flames. It was impossible to beat them back, and the men realised that if the tank burst and the spirits caught fire, the ship was doomed. With despairing energy they attacked the fire with buckets of water, and, despite the primitive nature of the weapon, they succeeded in subduing the flames before irreparable damage was done. The tank, fortunately, withstood the heat, though it was badly warped. The kayaks were destroyed, as well as all the spare wood, the rigging and sails on the mainmast, the awning, and some stores on the lower deck, where the flames also penetrated. But the ship was saved.