“It was a curious sight for me to see the two vessels coming rushing along behind me,” says Nansen, “with their square Viking-like sails showing dark against the white snow fields and the big round disk of the moon behind. Faster and faster I go flying on, while the ice gets more and more difficult. There is worse still ahead, I can see, and in another moment I am into it. The ground is here seamed with crevasses, but they are full of snow and not dangerous. Every now and then I feel my staff go through into space, but the cracks are narrow and the sledges glide easily over. Presently I cross a broader one, and see just in front of me a huge black abyss. I creep cautiously to its edge on the slippery ice, which here is covered by scarcely any snow, and look down into the deep, dark chasm. Beyond it I can see crevasse after crevasse, running parallel with one another, and showing dark blue in the moonlight. I now tell the others to stop, as this is no ground to traverse in the dark, and we must halt for the night.”
The joy of having crossed the ice-cap and the prospect of successfully passing the inland ice to the more congenial soil of the western coast caused the little band to meet cheerfully the most arduous labour in a perilous descent over crevasses and glacier, mountain, and valley into the promised land, of which old Ravna spoke with enthusiasm:—
“I like the west coast well; it is a good place for an old Lapp to live in; there are plenty of reindeer; it is just like the mountains of Finmarken.”
Having reached the coast, it became essential to reach civilization as well, and to expedite the journey it was found desirable to go by sea. The lack of a boat was a small consideration to men who had boldly sailed sledges across the Greenland ice-cap—for though wood, tools, and materials were lacking, there was the tent and plenty of willow bushes around, some six or seven feet in height. “Ribs made of these would not be as straight as we could wish,” says Nansen, “and would not stretch the canvas very evenly, but the main thing was to get her to carry us.... By the evening the boat was finished. She was no boat for a prize competition, indeed in shape she was more like a tortoise-shell than anything else.”
In this crazy little craft Nansen and Sverdrup rowed away to get relief from the inhabitants of Godthaab. Their companions remained in Ameralikfjord, in charge of the sledges and equipment. Great was the rejoicing in Godthaab when the explorers reached there and immediate preparations were made to succour the remainder of the party. These had slowly moved in the direction of Godthaab and gratefully welcomed the Eskimos who met them with supplies.
Unfortunately the party missed the last European vessel that left port that season and were obliged to spend the winter in Greenland. Letters and despatches, however, had been carried by the Eskimos down the coast to the Fox, M’Clintock’s old vessel, in his famous search for Sir John Franklin, and this veteran little craft carried the thrilling news of the “First crossing of Greenland” to Europe. The winter passed, and on April 15 “the settlement rang with the single shriek—‘The ship, the ship.’—Joyfully the brave band of explorers received news from home, and almost sorrowfully prepared to leave their hospitable friends of Godthaab.”
On May 21, 1889, Nansen and his companions made their triumphant entry into Copenhagen—and, concludes Nansen, “May 30 we entered Christiania Fjord, and were received by hundreds of sailing boats and a whole fleet of steamers.... When we got near the harbour, and saw the ramparts of the old fortress and the quays on all sides black with people, Dietrichson said to Ravna: ‘Are not all these people a fine sight, Ravna?’ ‘Yes, it is fine, very fine;—but if they had only been reindeer!’ was Ravna’s answer.”
Previous to his famous journey across Greenland, in one of his many conferences with Dr. H. Rink, that veteran explorer of Greenland, Nansen was addressed by Mrs. Rink, who said to him: “You must go to the North Pole, too, some day,” and without hesitation he answered her emphatically, as though his mind had long ago been made up on that point, “I mean to.”
From his twenty-third year, Nansen had bent his mind and energies upon that great journey into the Polar regions, upon which he did not embark, however, until nine years later.
In the meantime, he was appointed curator in the Museum of Comparative Anatomy at the Christiania University.