The situation was unpleasant. The “Fram” was not to be seen, and it had the meteorologists on board and would thus get weather reports. I would have given anything I possessed to have learned whether the weather would get better or worse. I gravely considered the advisability of turning back, but this proceeding would have meant giving up the idea of “Hobby” carrying everything to Spitzbergen, as the ice-pilot’s only hope was that we would find better weather to get through the ice at this time of year with our high deck cargo. Much valuable time would be lost if we had to go in search of an auxiliary ship, remove some of the heavy cases from the “Hobby” and re-load them on the new boat. On the other hand the welfare of the whole expedition was at stake, and my thoughts turned to Amundsen. Had the cases only contained ordinary goods, the sea could gladly have had them, but they contained our flying machines! When we “hove to” to secure the lashings I noticed how much steadier S. S. “Hobby” lay on the waves and decided that we could perform the same tactics again at any moment if things got too bad. The Meteorological Institute had promised us good weather so we decided to continue in the present position for a little while even after the cases were secured, until we should see if conditions were likely to improve. Another thought came to me when things were at their worst. Just before leaving Oslo I had been called before the Admiralty, and it was pointed out to me that they had doubts about sending the “Fram” amongst the ice at that time of year—not on account of the vessel itself, but on account of the crew. I replied that “Fram” and “Hobby” should always remain together so that “Hobby” would always be at hand to render any necessary assistance. Simultaneously we got a message from “Hobby’s” brokers to say they were very doubtful whether the Board of Trade would permit “Hobby” to leave with a deck-cargo—not on account of the vessel, but on account of the crew. I calmed them down by assuring them that “Fram” and “Hobby” should remain together so that “Fram” could go to “Hobby’s” assistance if necessary. Tragic as the situation was, I could not help smiling, for both vessels instead of being able to help each other had enough to do to look after themselves.
It seemed to me in one respect that it was a good thing the “Fram” was out of our immediate neighborhood, as it would have been dreadful for Amundsen to see how frightfully we rolled from side to side, without being himself on board with us to know that in all the “happenings” we remained masters of the situation.
Between Thursday night and Friday morning the weather improved—the wind had lowered, but there still remained a heavy swell on the water. If the “Hobby” got a little off the right course now and again, she was steered round with a tremendous pull which brought me flying on deck to see how things were going. Thus there was little sleep the whole night, certainly never more than an hour at a time. On Thursday morning we passed Björnöen to the westward without seeing the island, as there was a thick fog. Here we passed the first ice, which was typical pancake-ice.
During the day a southeasterly wind came up and increased later to a stiff breeze. So long as the sea was moderately calm, we did not mind, as the wind was blowing direct aft, and we were making good speed. By midday the sea had become so rough and the wind so strong that we were faced by the same dilemma which has faced many a seaman before us. How long could we carry on without having to “heave to”? We altered our course a little in order to get as quickly into the ice as possible by way of Sydkap. We knew that if we could only get along in that direction we would be sure to find smooth water, so we continued on that course and made fair progress. If the sea should get too rough, so that we could no longer keep going, it might be too late to “heave to,” for during that maneuver we might steer into the wind, getting the heavy seas abeam, and there was every possibility of our losing our deck cargo. If, therefore, we were going to steer into the wind, it would be advisable to do it in good time.
Occasionally “Hobby” rocked heavily when a heavy sea caught it astern. We rolled violently, not nicely and comfortably, but with heavy violent heaves so that the lashings cut into the planks which lay between them and the corners of the cases. During one of these heaves the man at the wheel was thrown across the wheel, against the rail, at the lee side of the bridge. He hurt himself pretty badly, and was unable to work for some time. The mate’s comforting remark was that conditions might be much worse when we got nearer to the banks. I was more afraid than I have ever been before in my life, and I hope sincerely that I shall never get into a similar position again. It was not my life I feared losing, for there was meantime no danger of this. It was the deck cargo’s fate about which I was concerned, namely, the flying machines. If the cases had been filled with gold they would have been heartily welcome to go overboard, but we must at all costs keep the flying-machines safe and sound. The expedition must not be put off this year. I felt thankful again in my heart that the ships had got separated, for “Fram” could have given us no help. Those on board that vessel could only have stood as helpless spectators.
During the evening of Easter Saturday the wind stopped increasing, and in the course of the night died down somewhat. On Easter Sunday evening we got into the ice and calculated that we were almost in a direct line with Spitzbergen. Under ordinary circumstances the proper thing to do would have been to steer northwest into free water until we were level with King’s Bay. Meantime there was a considerable swell, which now came from the southwest. The fog still surrounded us, coming thicker from the southwest. But the ice meant smooth water for us and safety for the deck cargo. We were, therefore, in no doubt what to do. Hoping that we might be able to keep on a clear water-course, we proceeded through the ice towards the land. Little by little, as we got further in, the swell decreased, and at last almost calmed down. How heartily I blessed that ice. At eleven o’clock we could not risk going any further, as we could no longer see anything ahead. “Hobby” was brought into some compact ice, and we “laid to” for the night.
Even if we should still encounter difficulties in finding our way to King’s Bay, and if the fog should not lift, at least we were now safe for some hours, so I went to my bunk and slept like a log as soon as my head touched the pillow. Six A.M. we were under way again. The fog was still as thick as ever. During the trip we had not taken any observations, apart from the “noon observation” on the day before Easter. But even this was uncertain, as the horizon was hardly visible on account of haze. We therefore did not care to go nearer to the land, but steered along it as well as the clearings in the ice permitted. Our course therefore varied between northeast and northwest. When we thought we were abreast of King’s Bay, we steered right in towards the land and got ready to “cast the lead.” We could now see far enough ahead to stop in good time when necessary. Then it seemed suddenly as if a curtain had been raised right abreast of us to starboard, and in pale clear sunshine we could see the northerly point of Prince Charles Foreland. Holm and Johansen can with good reason be proud of their calculations and navigating. We had kept the right course, steamed full speed and now we sailed right out into the radiant sunshine. Behind us lay the fog like a high gray wall. It was “död dam stille” as we say, and ahead lay King’s Bay. How glad we were. We just looked at each other and smiled as we heaved deep sighs of relief. What a wonderful sensation! We were there! Nothing could now impede the progress of the expedition. How annoyed all the skeptics would be. They would have no reason now to walk through the streets and shout: “I was right. I told you so!” There was a strong feeling of thankfulness, mingled with our satisfaction, that we had been able to get through all right and bring happiness to Amundsen.
We were not long in getting shaved and letting our faces make the acquaintance of fresh water again. Then we went up on deck to see whether “Fram” had arrived. The burning question during the trip had of course been, “Where can ‘Fram’ be?” We had also laid wagers and held various opinions about this, but I believe we forgot these in our joy.
Yes, there she was right up against the ice-edge. “Hobby” had still to force her way through an ice-belt, which was fairly clear, but yet progress seemed to be terribly slow. We were overcome by our own feelings, which seemed to shout the words, “Here we are and everything is all right!” At last we were through, and right up to the edge of the ice. We noticed that things became lively on the “Fram.” I went forward onto the deck-cargo and waved my cap to show that everything was all right. My challenge brought instant response. Ringing cheers reached us. Naval flags were dipped confirming our supposition that they had been anxious about us. When “Hobby” put its nose into the ice-edge we were all on the forecastle. Amundsen came towards us with a broad smile on his face. We knew and understood how pleased he was, and all our anxiety and the terrible strain on our nervous system were soon forgotten.