Fridtjof Nansen - Farthest North (Vol. 1&2)

( By Otto Sinding, from a Photograph )

Our team had got badly mixed up during the battle, and it took some time to disentangle them. At last everything was once more ready for the start. Trontheim cracked his whip, and called, “Pr-r-r-r, pr-r-r-r,” and off we went at a wild gallop, over grass, clay, and stones, until it seemed as if they were going to carry us right across the lagoon at the mouth of the river. I kicked and pulled in with all my might, but was dragged along, and it was all that Trontheim and I with our united strength could do to stop them just as they were going into the water, although we shouted “Sass, sass,” so that it echoed over the whole of Khabarova. But at last we got our team turned in another direction, and off we set again merrily at such a pace that I had enough to do to hold on. It was an extraordinary summer ride; and it gave us a high opinion of the dogs’ strength, seeing how easily they drew two men over this, to put it mildly, bad sledding ground. We went on board again well satisfied, also the richer by a new experience, having learnt that dog-driving, at any rate to begin with, requires much patience.

Siberian dog-harness is remarkably primitive. A thick rope or a strap of sail-cloth passes round the animal’s back and belly. This is held in its place above by a piece of cord attached to the collar. The single trace is fastened under the belly, goes back between the legs, and must often plague the animal. I was unpleasantly surprised when I noticed that, with four exceptions, all the dogs were castrated, and this surprise I did not conceal. But Trontheim on his side was at least equally astonished, and informed me that in Siberia castrated dogs are considered the best. 1This was a disappointment to me, as I had reckoned on my canine family increasing on the way. For the present I should just have to trust to the four “whole” dogs and “Kvik,” the bitch I had brought with me from home.

Next day, August 1st, there was a great religious festival in Khabarova, that of St. Elias. Samoyedes from far and near had come in with their reindeer teams to celebrate the day by going to church and then getting roaring drunk. We were in need of men in the morning to help in filling the boiler with fresh water and the tank with drinking-water, but on account of this festival it was difficult to get hold of any at all. At last, by dint of promising sufficient reward, Trontheim succeeded in collecting some poor fellows who had not money enough to drink themselves as drunk as the day required of them. I was on shore in the morning, partly to arrange about the provision of water, partly to collect fossils, in which the rock here abounds, especially one rock below Sibiriakoff’s warehouse. I also took a walk up the hill to the west, to Trontheim’s flag-staff, and looked out to sea in that direction after the Urania . But there was nothing to be seen except an unbroken sea-line. Loaded with my find I returned to Khabarova, where I, of course, took advantage of the opportunity to see something of the festival.

From early morning the women had been dressed in their finest clothes—brilliant colors, skirts with many tucks, and great colored bows at the end of plaits of hair which hung far down their backs. Before service an old Samoyede and a comely young girl led out a lean reindeer which was to be offered to the church—to the old church, that is to say. Even up here, as already mentioned, religious differences have found their way. Nearly all the Samoyedes of these parts belong to the old faith and attend the old church. But they go occasionally to the new one too; as far as I could make out, so as not to offend the priest and Sibiriakoff—or perhaps to be surer of heaven? From what I got out of Trontheim on the subject, the chief difference between the two religions lies in the way they make the sign of the cross, or something of that sort. To-day was high festival in both churches. All the Samoyedes first paid a short visit to the new church and then immediately streamed over into the old one. The old church was for the moment without a priest, but to-day they had clubbed together and offered the priest of the new church two roubles to hold a service in the old one too. After careful consideration, he agreed, and in all his priestly pomp crossed the old threshold. The air inside was so bad that I could not stand it for more than two minutes, so I now made my way on board again.

During the afternoon the howling and screaming began, and increased as time went on. We did not need to be told that the serious part of the festival had now begun. Some of the Samoyedes tore about over the plain with their reindeer teams like furious animals. They could not sit on their sledges, but lay on them, or were dragged behind them, howling. Some of my comrades went on shore, and brought back anything but an edifying account of the state of things. Every single man and woman appeared to be drunk, reeling about the place. One young Samoyede in particular had made an ineffaceable impression on them. He mounted a sledge, lashed at the reindeer, and drove “amuck” in among the tents, over the tied-up dogs, foxes, and whatever came in his way; he himself fell off the sledge, was caught in the reins, and dragged behind, shrieking, through sand and clay. Good St. Elias must be much flattered by such homage. Towards morning the howling gradually died away, and the whole town slept the loathsome sleep of the drunkard.

Evening scene at Khabarova

( By Otto Sinding, from a Photograph )

There was not a man to be got to help with our coal-shifting next day. Most of them slept all day after the orgie of the night. We had just to do without help; but we had not finished by evening, and I began to be impatient to get away. Precious time was passing; I had long ago given up the Urania . We did not really need more coal. The wind had been favorable for several days. It was a south wind, which was certainly blowing the ice to the northward in the Kara Sea. Sverdrup was now positive that we should be able to sail in open water all the way to the New Siberian Islands, so it was his opinion that there was no hurry for the present. But hope is a frail reed to lean on, and my expectations were not quite so bright; so I hurried things on, to get away as soon as possible.

At the supper-table this evening King Oscar’s gold medal of merit was solemnly presented to Trontheim, in recognition of the great care with which he had executed his difficult commission, and the valuable assistance thereby rendered to the expedition. His honest face beamed at the sight of the beautiful medal and the bright ribbon.

Next day, August 3d, we were at last ready for a start, and the 34 dogs were brought on board in the afternoon, with great noise and confusion. They were all tied up on the deck forward, and began by providing more musical entertainment than we desired. By evening the hour had come. We got up steam—everything was ready. But such a thick fog had set in that we could not see the land. Now came the moment when our last friend, Christofersen, was to leave the ship. We supplied him with the barest sufficiency of provisions and some Ringnes’s ale. While this was being done, last lines were added in feverish eagerness to the letters home. Then came a last hand-clasp; Christofersen and Trontheim got into the boat, and had soon disappeared in the fog. With them went our last post; our last link with home was broken. We were alone in the mist on the sea. It was not likely that any message from us would reach the world before we ourselves brought the news of our success or defeat. How much anxiety were those at home to suffer between now and then! It is true we might possibly be able to send letters home from the mouth of the Olenek, where, according to the agreement with Baron Toll, we were to call in for another supply of dogs; but I did not consider this probable. It was far on in the summer, and I had an instinctive feeling that the state of the ice was not so favorable as I could have wished it to be.