Johansen’s trousers are sodden, his boots waterlogged. He hauls himself back from the jagged edge where the ice has given way to rippling water. Fridtjof Nansen watches on. Neither man speaks. Words do nothing to lighten the gravity of their situation. They are far from land. How far, neither of them dares suggest. The sea ice is no longer sure underfoot. Great rents appear in its surface as wind and currents conspire, forming wide avenues of open sea that stretch for miles.
Johansen’s wet trousers adhere to his skin. Within minutes the outer layer has frozen to a hard shell and his boots clench to his feet. He wiggles his toes to establish a line of communication with his extremities. It’s futile. His body will soon disavow all knowledge of these feet, so numb on the ends of his legs as to feel like they belong to somebody else.
‘Shall we try that way?’ he mumbles to Nansen.
Nansen signals his agreement. It’s the same either way. Far from land, with dwindling food supplies and no idea of their precise location, the men hold it together with a grim determination that belies their wretched fate. It feels like the days never end. Trudging forth, his frozen lower half in denial, Johansen adds ‘exposure’ to his growing list of ways to die – by drowning, by starvation, by polar bear.
The dog that struggles to keep up is earmarked for supper. A bullet to the brain would be best but their rifle has other duties – hunting, protection against predators. Strangulation will have to do. The dog whines as the rope is wound around its neck. Positioned on either side of the timorous creature, the two men take up the slack. Pulling mightily on either end of the rope, Johansen and Nansen bellow in guttural distaste. It is a beastly task.
‘I can’t,’ Johansen says finally, releasing the rope.
Without a word, Nansen reaches for a knife. Holding the dog’s shoulders between his knees, he slits its throat. It’s a messy business. The blood courses down his legs and over the snow. Johansen feels a pang of jealousy. Death appears as an easy end.