The professor saluted, and introduced his companion, “Conservator Nansen from Bergen, who purposes to cross over the inland ice of Greenland.”
“The deuce he does!” muttered “old Nor,” staring with all his eyes at the fair-haired young viking.
“And would like to confer with you about it,” continued the professor.
“Quite welcome; and so Herr Nansen thinks of crossing over Greenland?”
“Yes; such was his intention.” Thereon, without further ado, he sketched out his projected plan, to which “old Nor” listened with great attention, shaking his head every now and then, as if rather sceptical about it, but evidently getting more and more interested as he proceeded.
As Nansen and Professor Brögger were sitting in the latter’s house that evening, a knock was heard at the door, and who should come in but “old Nor” himself—a convincing proof to Brögger that the old man entertained a favorable idea of the proposed plan. And many a valuable hint did the young ice-bear get from the old one, as they sat opposite each other—the man of the past and the coming man of the present—quietly conversing together that evening.
Now Nansen sets off for home in order to prepare for the arduous task of the ensuing spring. In December, 1887, he is in Bergen again, and at the end of January he travels on ski from Hardanger to Kongsberg, thence by rail to Christiania.
In March we see him once more in Bergen, giving lectures in order to awaken public interest in Greenland; now sleeping out on the top of Blaamand,[3] a mountain near Bergen, in a sleeping-bag, to test its efficiency; now standing on the cathedra in the university auditorium to claim his right to the degree of doctor of philosophy, which on April 28 was honorably awarded him; and on May 2 he sets out for Copenhagen, en route for Greenland. For unhappily it was the case in Norway in 1888 that Norwegian exploits must be carried out with Danish help. In vain had he sought for assistance from the regents of the university. They recommended the matter to the government, but the government had no 5,000 kroner[4] ($1,350) to throw away on such an enterprise,—the enterprise of a madman, as most people termed it.
Yet when that enterprise had been carried to a successful issue, and that same lunatic had become a great man and asked the government and the storthing[5] for a grant of 200,000 kroner ($54,000) for his second mad expedition, his request was promptly granted. A new Norway had grown up meanwhile, a new national spirit had forced its way into existence, a living testimony to the power of the Nansen expedition.
As stated above, Nansen had to go to Denmark for the 5,000 kroner; and it was the wealthy merchant, Augustin Gamel, who placed that amount at his disposal. Still, certain is it, had not that sum of money been forthcoming as it was, Fridtjof Nansen would have plucked himself bare to the last feather in order to carry out his undertaking.