Fridtjof Nansen: A Book for the Young

by Jacob B. Bull

This had taken place but an hour before. And now he was standing on the bridge alone, leaving all he held dear behind.

The twelve men who accompanied him,—they, too, had made sacrifices,—each had his own sorrow to meet at this hour; but at the word of command, one and all went about their duty as if nothing was amiss.

For the first few days it was fine weather, but on getting out as far as Lindesnæs[3] it became very stormy. The ship rolled like a log, and seas broke over the rails on both sides. Great fear was entertained lest the deck cargo should be carried overboard, a contingency, indeed, that soon occurred; for twenty-five empty paraffin casks broke loose from their lashings, and a quantity of reserve timber balks followed.

“It was an anxious time,” says Nansen. “Seasick I stood on the bridge, alternately offering libations to the gods of the sea, and trembling for the safety of the boats and of the men who were trying to make snug what they could on deck. Now a green sea poured over us, and knocked one fellow off his legs so that he was deluged; now the lads were jumping over hurtling spars to avoid getting their feet crushed. There was not a dry thread on them. Juell was lying asleep in the ‘Grand Hotel,’ as we called one of the long boats, and awoke to find the sea roaring under him. I met him at the cabin door as he came running down. Once the Fram buried her bows and shipped a sea over the forecastle. One fellow was clinging to the anchor davits over the foaming water; it was poor Juell again.”

Then all the casks, besides a quantity of timber, had to be thrown overboard. It was, indeed, an anxious time.

But fine weather came at last, and Bergen turned out to meet them in brilliant sunshine. Then on again, along the wonderful coast of Norway, while the people on shore stood gazing after them, marvelling as they passed.

At Beian[4] Sverdrup joined the ship, and Berntsen, the thirteenth member of the crew, at Tromsö.[5]

Still onward toward the north, till finally the last glimpse of their native country faded from their sight in the hazy horizon, and a dense fog coming on enveloped them in its shroud. They were to have met the Urania, laden with coal, in Jugor straits; but as that vessel had not arrived, and time was precious, the Fram proceeded on her course, after having shipped a number of Esquimau dogs which a Russian, named Trontheim, had been commissioned to procure for the expedition. It was here that Nansen took leave of his secretary, Cristophersen, who was to return by the Urania; and the last tie that united them with Norway was severed.

The Fram now heads out from the Jugor straits into the dreaded Kara sea, which many had prophesied would be her destruction. But they worked their way through storm and ice, at times satisfactorily, at others encountering slight mishaps; but the Fram proved herself to be a reliable iceworthy vessel, and Nansen felt more and more convinced that, when the ice-pressure began in real earnest, she would acquit herself well.

“It was a royal pleasure,” he writes, “to take her into difficult ice. She twists and turns like a ball on a plate—and so strong! If she runs into a floe at full speed, she scarcely utters a sound, only quivers a little, perhaps.”