On quitting her they fired a salute on board with all their guns as a farewell; and, though the lads on the Fram kept their spirits up bravely, every eye was full of tears, something quite uncommon with them: and they watched their two adventurous comrades, with their sleighs and dogs, as they set off toward the Pole, till they were lost to sight among the hummocks.
The ice was terribly difficult, and they had a wearisome march over it; and, to make matters worse, a southerly drift set in, driving them nearly as far back as they advanced. However, they got on pretty well till reaching eighty-five degrees north latitude, when another back drift set in, lasting, indeed, without intermission during the whole of the expedition. The dogs, too, got worn out, and had to be killed one after the other; while, to add to their discomfort, their clothes would get frozen so stiff during the day that they had to thaw them in their sleeping-bags at night with the warmth of their bodies. Very often they were so tired in the evening that they would fall asleep with the food in their hands. Their expedition, too, haunted them in their sleep; and often Nansen would be awakened by hearing Johansen call out in the night, “Pan!” “Barabbas!” or “The whole sleigh is going over!” or “Sass-sass,” “Prr!” Lappish words to make the dogs quicken their pace or to halt.
Nansen and Johansen leaving the Fram.
It was sorrowful work to have to kill these faithful animals when they were worn out. Nansen himself says that he often felt the bitterest self-reproaches, and confessed that this expedition seemed to destroy all the better feelings of his nature. But forward they must go, and forward they went, though their progress was very slow.
It was not long before Nansen became convinced that it would be an utter impossibility to reach the Pole through such masses of pack-ice and hummocks as they encountered. The question, therefore, was how far they should venture toward it before turning their faces southward.
On Monday, April 8, they had reached eighty-six degrees, ten minutes, north latitude (though it subsequently turned out to be eighty-six degrees, fourteen minutes, north latitude, that renowned degree of latitude that became historical when the news of the Nansen expedition was flashed all over the world), and determined to go on no farther. So, on the day following, they changed their course to the south. The going improved a little as they travelled on. As far as the eye could reach huge masses of ice towered aloft toward the north, while toward the south the ice became each day more favorable, a circumstance that cheered them up not a little.
On Sunday, May 5, they were in eighty-four degrees, thirty-one minutes, north latitude, and on the 17th, in eighty-three degrees, thirty minutes, north latitude.
They found it very hard work crossing the open channels in the ice; and what made it harder was that the number of their dogs diminished daily, one after another having to be killed as food for the survivors. It was absolutely necessary, however, to reach a latitude where game could be procured, before their stock of provisions gave out.
On May 19 they came on the tracks of a bear, but did not see the animal itself. Tracks of foxes they had already seen when in eighty-five degrees north latitude.