I TRIED to forget my thirst by busying myself with bringing up
some food and an empty vessel from the hold. Reaching over the
side-rail, I filled the vessel with water for the purpose of
laving my hands and face. To my astonishment, when the water came
in contact with my lips, I could taste no salt. I was startled by
the discovery. "Father!" I fairly gasped, "the water, the water;
it is fresh!" "What, Olaf?" exclaimed my father, glancing hastily
around. "Surely you are mistaken. There is no land. You are going
mad." "But taste it!" I cried.

And thus we made the discovery that the water was indeed fresh,
absolutely so, without the least briny taste or even the
suspicion of a salty flavor.

We forthwith filled our two remaining water-casks, and my father
declared it was a heavenly dispensation of mercy from the gods
Odin and Thor.

We were almost beside ourselves with joy, but hunger bade us end
our enforced fast. Now that we had found fresh water in the open
sea, what might we not expect in this strange latitude where ship
had never before sailed and the splash of an oar had never been
heard? [11]

[11 In vol. I, page 196, Nansen writes: "It is a
peculiar phenomenon,-- this dead water. We had at present a
better opportunity of studying it than we desired. It occurs
where a surface layer of fresh water rests upon the salt water of
the sea, and this fresh water is carried along with the ship
gliding on the heavier sea beneath it as if on a fixed