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anxiously inquiring about the state of the ice in the Kara Sea. Here, amid the greatest noise and confusion,
some thirty-four dogs were brought on board for the sledges. On 5th August the explorer successfully passed
through the Yugor Strait into the Kara Sea, which was fairly free from ice, and five weeks later sailed past
Cape Chelyuskin, the northernmost point of the Old World.
"The land was low and desolate," says Nansen. "The sun had long since gone down behind the sea; only one
star was to be seen. It stood straight above Cape Chelyuskin, shining clearly and sadly in the pale sky. Exactly
at four o'clock our flags were hoisted and our last three cartridges sent out a thundering salute over the sea."
The Fram was then turned north to the west of the New Siberian Islands. "It was a strange thing to be sailing
away north," says Nansen, "to unknown lands, over an open rolling sea where no ship had been before. On to
the north, steadily north with a good wind, as fast as steam and sail can take us through unknown regions."
They had almost reached 78 degrees north when they saw ice shining through the fog, and a few days later the
Fram was frozen in. "Autumn was well advanced, the long night of winter was approaching, there was
nothing to be done except prepare ourselves for it, and we converted our ship as well as we could into
comfortable winter quarters."
By October the ice was pressing round the Fram with a noise like thunder. "It is piling itself up into long
walls and heaps high enough to reach a good way up the Fram's rigging: in fact, it is trying its very utmost to
grind the Fram into powder."
CHAPTER LXXI 235
Christmas came and went. The New Year of 1894 dawned with the thermometer 36 degrees below zero. By
February the Fram had drifted to the 80th degree of latitude. "High festival in honour of the 80th degree,"
writes Nansen. "Hurrah! Well sailed! The wind is whistling among the hummocks, the snow flies rustling
through the air, ice and sky are melted into one, but we are going north at full speed, and are in the wildest of
gay spirits. If we go on at this rate we shall be at the Pole in fifty months."
On 17th May the 81st degree of latitude was reached. Five months passed away. By 31st October they had
drifted to the 82nd. "A grand banquet to-day," says Nansen, "to celebrate the 82nd degree of latitude. We are
progressing merrily towards our goal; we are already half-way between the New Siberian Islands and Franz
Josef Land, and there is not a soul on board who doubts that we shall accomplish what we came out to do; so
long live merriment."
Now Nansen planned the great sledge journey, which has been called "the most daring ever undertaken." The
winter was passed in peaceful preparation for a start in the spring. When the New Year of 1895 dawned the
Fram had been firmly frozen in for fifteen months. A few days later, the ship was nearly crushed by a fresh
ice pressure and all prepared to abandon her if necessary, but after an anxious day of ice roaring and
crackling--"an ice pressure with a vengeance, as if Doomsday had come," remarked Nansen--it quieted down.
They had now beaten all records, for they had reached 83 degrees latitude.
And now preparations for the great sledge journey were complete. They had built kayaks or light boats to sail
in open water, and these were placed on the sledges and drawn by dogs. Nansen decided only to take one
companion, Johansen, and to leave the others with the Fram.
"At last the great day has arrived. The chief aim of the expedition is to push through the unknown Polar sea
from the region around the New Siberian Islands, north of Franz Josef Land and onward to the Atlantic Ocean
near Spitzbergen or Greenland." Farewells were said, and then the two men bravely started off over the
unknown desert sea with their sledges and twenty-eight dogs. For the first week they travelled well and soon
reached 85 degrees latitude. "The only disagreeable thing to face now is the cold," says Nansen. "Our clothes
are transformed more and more into complete suits of ice armour. The sleeve of my coat actually rubbed deep
sores in my wrists, one of which got frostbitten; the wound grew deeper and deeper and nearly reached the
bone. At night we packed ourselves into our sleeping-bags and lay with our teeth chattering for an hour before
we became aware of a little warmth in our bodies."
[Illustration: DR. NANSEN. After a photograph.]
Steadily, with faces to the north, they pressed on over the blocks of rough ice, stretching as far as the horizon,
till on 8th April further progress became impossible. Nansen strode on ahead and mounted one of the highest
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