Part 2 - Olaf Jansen's Story
My name is Olaf Jansen. I am a Norwegian, although I was born in the
little seafaring Russian town of Uleaborg, on the eastern coast of the
gulf of Bothnia, the northern arm of the Baltic Sea. My parents were on a
fishing cruise in the Gulf of Bothnia, and put into this Russian town of
Uleaborg at the time of my birth, being the twenty-seventh day of October,
1811. My father, Jens Jansen, was born at Rodwig on the Scandinavian
coast, near the Lofoden Islands, but after marrying made his home at
Stockholm, because my mother's people resided in that city. When seven
years old, I began going with my father on his fishing trips along the
Scandinavian coast. Early in life I displayed an aptitude for books, and
at the age of nine years was placed in a private school in Stockholm,
remaining there until I was fourteen. After this I made regular trips with
my father on all his fishing voyages. My father was a man fully six feet
three in height, and weighed over fifteen stone, a typical Norseman of the
most rugged sort, and capable of more endurance than any other man I have
ever known. He possessed the gentleness of a woman in tender little ways,
yet his determination and will-power were beyond description. His will
admitted of no defeat. I was in my nineteenth year when we started on what
proved to be our last trip as fishermen, and which resulted in the strange
story that shall be given to the world, - but not until I have finished my
earthly pilgrimage. I dare not allow the facts as I know them to be
published while I am living, for fear of further humiliation, confinement
and suffering. First of all, I was put in irons by the captain of the
whaling vessel that rescued me, for no other reason than that I told the
truth about the marvelous discoveries made by my father and myself. But
this was far from being the end of my tortures. After four years and eight
months' absence I reached Stockholm, only to find my mother had died the
previous year, and the property left by my parents in the possession of my
mother's people, but it was at once made over to me. All might have been
well, had I erased from my memory the story of our adventure and of my
father's terrible death. Finally, one day I told the story in detail to my
uncle, Gustaf Osterlind, a man of considerable property, and urged him to
fit out an expedition for me to make another voyage to the strange land.
At first I thought he favored my project. He seemed interested, and
invited me to go before certain officials and explain to them, as I had to
him, the story of our travels and discoveries. Imagine my disappointment
and horror when, upon the conclusion of my narrative, certain papers were
signed by my uncle, and, without warning, I found myself arrested and
hurried away to dismal and fearful confinement in a madhouse, where I
remained for twenty-eight years - long, tedious, frightful years of
suffering! I never ceased to assert my sanity, and to protest against the
injustice of my confinement. Finally, on the seventeenth of October, 1862,
I was released. My uncle was dead, and the friends of my youth were now
strangers. Indeed, a man over fifty years old, whose only known record is
that of a madman, has no friends. I was at a loss to know what to do for a
living, but instinctively turned toward the harbor where fishing boats in
great numbers were anchored, and within a week I had shipped with a
fisherman by the name of Yan Hansen, who was starting on a long fishing
cruise to the Lofoden Islands. Here my earlier years of training proved of
the very greatest advantage, especially in enabling me to make myself
useful. This was but the beginning of other trips, and by frugal economy I
was, in a few years, able to own a fishing-brig of my own. For
twenty-seven years thereafter I followed the sea as a fisherman, five
years working for others, and the last twenty-two for myself. During all
these years I was a most diligent student of books, as well as a hard
worker at my business, but I took great care not to mention to anyone the
story concerning the discoveries made by my father and myself. Even at
this late day I would be fearful of having any one see or know the things
I am writing, and the records and maps I have in my keeping. When my days
on earth are finished, I shall leave maps and records that will enlighten
and, I hope, benefit mankind. The memory of my long confinement with
maniacs, and all the horrible anguish and sufferings are too vivid to
warrant my taking further chances. In 1889 I sold out my fishing boats,
and found I had accumulated a fortune quite sufficient to keep me the
remainder of my life. I then came to America. For a dozen years my home
was in Illinois, near Batavia, where I gathered most of the books in my
present library, though I brought many choice volumes from Stockholm.
Later, I came to Los Angeles, arriving here March 4, 1901. The date I well
remember, as it was President McKinley's second inauguration day. I bought
this humble home and determined, here in the privacy of my own abode,
sheltered by my own vine and fig-tree, and with my books about me, to make
maps and drawings of the new lands we had discovered, and also to write
the story in detail from the time my father and I left Stockholm until the
tragic event that parted us in the Antarctic Ocean. I well remember that
we left Stockholm in our fishing-sloop on the third day of April, 1829,
and sailed to the southward, leaving Gothland Island to the left and
Oeland Island to the right. A few days later we succeeded in doubling
Sandhommar Point, and made our way through the sound which separates
Denmark from Scandinavian coast. In due time we put in at the town of
Christiansand, where we rested two days, and then started around the
Scandinavian coast to the westward, bound for the Lofoden Islands. My
father was in high spirit, because of the excellent and gratifying returns
he had received from our last catch by marketing at Stockholm, instead of
selling at one of the seafaring towns along the Scandinavian coast. He was
especially pleased with the sale of some ivory tusks that he had found on
the west coast of Franz Joseph Land during one of his northern cruises the
previous year, and he expressed the hope that this time we might again be
fortunate enough to load our little fishing-sloop with ivory, instead of
cod, herring, mackerel and salmon. We put in at Hammerfest, latitude
seventy-one degrees and forty minutes, for a few days' rest. Here we
remained one week, laying in an extra supply of provisions and several
casks of drinking-water, and then sailed toward Spitzbergen. For the first
few days we had an open sea and favoring wind, and then we encountered
much ice and many icebergs. A vessel large than our little fishing-sloop
could not possibly have threaded its way among the labyrinth of icebergs
or squeezed through the barely open channels. These monster bergs
presented an endless succession of crystal palaces, of massive cathedrals
and fantastic mountain ranges, grim and sentinel-like, immovable as some
towering cliff of solid rock, standing silent as sphinx, resisting the
restless waves of a fretful sea. After many narrow escapes, we arrived at
Spitzbergen on the 23d of June, and anchored at Wijade Bay for a short
time, where we were quite succesful in our catches. We then lifted anchor
and sailed through the Hinlopen Strait, and coasted along the
North-East-Land. It will be remembered that Andree started on his fatal
balloon voyage from the northwest coast of Spitzbergen. A strong wind came
up from the southwest, and my father said that we had better take
advantage of it and try to reach Franz Josef Land, where, the year before
he had, by accident, found the ivory tusks that had brought him such a
good price at Stockholm. Never, before or since, have I seen so many
sea-fowl; they were so numerous that they hid the rocks on the coast line
and darkened the sky. For several days we sailed along the rocky coast of
Franz Josef Land. Finally, a favoring wind came up that enabled us to make
the West Coast, and, after sailing twenty-four hours, we came to a
beautiful inlet. One could hardly believe it was the Northland. The place
was green with growing vegetation, and while the area did not comprise
more than one or two acres, yet the air was warm and tranquil. It seemed
to be at that point where the Gulf Stream's influence is most keenly felt.
Sir John Barrow, Bart., F.R.S., in his work entitled "Voyages of Discovery
and Research Within the Arctic Regions," says on page 57: "Mr. Beechey
refers to what has frequently been found and noticed - the mildness of the
temperature on the western coast of Spitzbergen, there being little or no
sensation of cold, though the thermometer might be only a few degrees
above the freezing-point. The brilliant and lively effect of a clear day,
when the sun shines forth with a pure sky, whose azure hue is so intense
as to find no parallel even in the boasted Italian sky." On the east coast
there were numerous icebergs, yet here we were in open water. Far to the
west of us, however, were icepacks, and still farther to the westward the
ice appeared like ranges of low hills. In front of us, and directly to the
north, lay an open sea . Captain Kane, on page 299, quoting from Morton's
Journal, the 26th of December, says: "As far as I could see, the open
passages were fifteen miles or more wide, with sometimes mashed ice
separating them. But it is all small ice, and I think it either drives out
to the open space to the north or rots and sinks, as I could see none
ahead to the north." My father was an ardent believer in Odin and Thor,
and had frequently told me they were gods who came from far beyond the
"North Wind." There was a tradition, my father explained, that still
farther northward was a land more beautiful than any that mortal man had
ever known, and that it was inhabited by the "Chosen". "We find the
following in "Deutsche Mythologie," page 778, from the pen of Jakob
Grimm;"Then the sons of Bor built in the middle of the universe the city
called Asgard, where dwell the gods and their kindred, and from that abode
work out so many wondrous things both on the earth and in the heavens
above it. There is in that city a place called Hlidskjalf, and when Odin
is seated there upon his lofty throne he sees over the whole world and
discerns all the actions of men." My youthful imagination was fired by the
ardor, zeal and religious fervor of my good father, and I exclaimed: "Why
not sail to this goodly land? The sky is fair, the wind favourable and the
sea open." Even now I can see the expression of pleasurable surprise on
his countenance as he turned toward me and asked: "My son, are you willing
to go with me and explore - to go far beyond where man has ever ventured?"
I answered affirmatively. "Very well," he replied. "May the god Odin
protect us!" and, quickly adjusting the sails, he glanced at our compass,
turned the prow in due northerly direction through an open channel, and
our voyage had begun . Hall writes, on page 288: "On 23rd of January the
two Esquimaux, accompanied by two of the seamen, went to Cape Lupton. They
reported a sea of open water extending as far as the eye could reach." The
sun was low in the horizon, as it was still the early summer. Indeed, we
had almost four months of day ahead of us before the frozen night could
come on again. Our little fishing-sloop sprang forward as if eager as
ourselves for adventure. Within thirty-six hours we were out of sight of
the highest point on the coast line of Franz Josef Land. We seemed to be
in a strong current running north by northeast. Far to the right and to
the left of us were icebergs, but our little sloop bore down on the
narrows and passed through channels and out into open seas - channels so
narrow in places that, had our craft been other then small, we never could
have gotten through. On the third day we came to an island. Its shores
were washed by an open sea. My father determined to land and explore for a
day. This new land was destitute of timber, but we found a large
accumulation of drift-wood on the northern shore. Some of the trunks of
the trees were forty feet long and two feet in diameter. Greely tells us
in vol. 1, page 100, that: "Privates Connell and Frederick found a large
coniferous tree on the beach, just above the extreme high-water mark. It
was nearly thirty inches in circumference, some thirty feet long, and had
apparently been carried to that point by a currrent within a couple of
years. A portion of it was cut up for fire-wood, and for the first time in
that valley, a bright, cheery camp-fire gave comfort to man." After one
day's exploration of the coast line of this island, we lifted anchor and
turned our prow to the north in an open sea. Dr. Kane says, on page 379 of
his works: "I cannot imagine what becomes of the ice. A strong current
sets in constantly to the north; but, from altitudes of more than five
hundred feet, I saw only narrow strips of ice, with great spaces of open
water, from ten to fifteen miles in breadth, between them. It must,
therefore, either go to an open space in the north, or dissolve." I
remember that neither my father nor myself had tasted food for almost
thirty hours. Perhaps this was because of the tension of excitement about
our strange voyage in waters farther north, my father said, than anyone
ever before been. Active mentality had dulled the demands of the physical
needs. Instead of cold being intense as we had anticipated, it was really
warmer and more pleasant than it had been while in Hammerfest on the north
coast of Norway, some six weeks before. Captain Peary's second voyage
relates another circumstance which may serve to confirm a conjecture which
has long been maintained by some, that an open sea, free of ice, exists at
or near the Pole. "On the second of November," says Peary, "the wind
freshened up to a gale from north by west, lowered the thermometer before
midnight to 5 degrees, whereas, a rise of wind at Melville Island was
generally accompanied by a simultaneous rise in the thermometer at low
temperatures. May not this," he asks, "be occasioned by the wind blowing
over an open sea in the quarter from which the wind blows? And tend to
confirm the opinion that at or near the Pole an open sea exists?" We both
frankly admitted that we were very hungry, and forthwith I prepared a
substantial meal from our well-stored larder. When we had partaken
heartily of the repast, I told my father I believed I would sleep, as I
was beginning to feel quite drowsy. "Very well," he replied, "I will keep
the watch." I have no way to determine how long I slept; I only know that
I was rudely awakened by a terrible commotion of the sloop. To my
surprise, I found my father sleeping soundly. I cried out lustily to him,
and starting up, he sprang quickly to his feet. Indeed, had he not
instantly clutched the rail, he would certainly have been thrown into the
seething waves. A fierce snow-storm was raging. The wind was directly
astern, driving our sloop at a terrific speed, and was threatening every
moment to capsize us. There was no time to lose, the sails had to be
lowered immediately. Our boat was writhing in convulsions. A few icebergs
we knew were on either side of us, but fortunately the channel was open
directly to the north. But would it remain so? In front of us, girding the
horison from left to right, was a vaporish fog or mist, black as Egyptian
night at the water's edge, and white like a steam-cloud toward the top,
which was finally lost to view as it blended with the great white flakes
of falling snow. Whether it covered a treacherous iceberg, or some other
hidden obstacle against which our little sloop would dash and send us to a
watery grave, or was merely the phenomenon of an Arctic fog, there was no
way to determine. On the page 284 of his works, Hall writes: "From the top
of Providence Berg, a dark fog was seen to the north, indicating water. At
10 a.m. three of the men (Kruger, Nindemann and Hobby) went to Cape Lupton
to ascertain if possible the extent of the open water. On their return
they reported several open spaces and much young ice - not more than a day
old, so thin that it was easily broken by throwing pieces of ice upon it."
By what miracle we escaped being dashed to utter destruction, I do not
know. I remember our little craft creaked and groaned, as if its joints
were breaking. It rocked and staggered to and fro as if clutched by some
fierce undertow of whirlpool or maelstrom. Fortunately our compass had
been fastened with long screws to a cross-beam. Most of our provisions,
however, were tumbled out and swept away from the deck of the cuddy, and
had we not taken the precaution at the very beginning to tie ourselves
firmly to the masts of the sloop, we should have been swept into the
lashing sea. Above the deafening tumult of the raging waves, I heard my
father's voice. "Be courageous, my son," he shouted, "Odin is the god of
the waters, the companion of the brave, and he is with us. Fear not." To
me it seemed there was no possibility of our escaping a horrible death.
The little sloop was shipping water, the snow was falling so fast as to be
blinding,and the waves were tumbling over our counters in reckless
white-sprayed fury. There was no telling what instant we should be dashed
against some drifting icepack. The tremendous swells would heave us up to
the very peaks of mountainous waves, then plunge us down into the depths
of the sea's trough as if our fishing-sloop were a fragile shell. Gigantic
white-capped waves, like veritable walls, fenced us in, fore and aft. This
terrible nerve-racking ordeal, with its nameless horrors of suspense and
agony of fear indescribable, continued for more than three hours, and all
the time we were being driven forward at fierce speed. Then suddenly, as
if growning weary of its frantic exertions, the wind began to lessen its
fury and by degrees to die down. At last we were in prefect calm. The fog
mist had also disappeared, and before us lay an iceless channel perhaps
ten or fifteen miles wide with a few icebergs far away to our right, and
an intermittent archipelago of smaller ones to the left. I watched my
father closely, determined to remain silent until he spoke. Presently he
untied the rope from his waist and, without saying a word, began working
the pumps, which fortunately were not demaged, relieving the sloop of the
water it had shipped in the madness of the storm. He put up the sloop's
sails as calmly as if casting a fishing-net, and then remarked that we
were ready for a favoring wind when it came. His courage and persistence
were truly remarkable. On investigation we found less than one-third of
our provisions remaining, while to our utter dismay, we discovered that
our water-casks had been swept overboard during the violent plungings of
our boat. Two of our water-casks were in the main hold, both were empty.
We had a fair supply of food, but no fresh water. I realized at once the
awfulness of our position. Presently I was seized with a consuming thirst.
"It is indeed bad," remarked my father. "However, let us dry our
bedraggled clothing, for we are soaked to the skin. Trust to the god Odin,
my son. Do not give up hope." The sun was beating down slantingly, as if
we were in a southern latitude, instead of in the far Northland. It was
swinging around, its orbit ever visible and rising higher and higher each
day, frequently mistcovered, yet always peering through the lacework of
clouds like some fretful eye of fate, guarding the misterious Northland
and jealously watching the pranks of man. Far to our right the rays
decking the prisms of icebergs were gorgeous. Their reflections emitted
flashes of garnet, of diamond, of sapphire. A pyrotechnic panorama of
countless colors and shapes, while below could be seen the green-tinted
sea, and above, the purple sky.