Chapter II: Part 2

Some climbed the mountains and descended the slopes on ski, the beloved snow-shoes of the Scandinavian. Others went hunting with the arms presented by Swedish armourers to the Polar Expedition. As for myself, I was content to admire this imposing nature, and tried to utilise my modest talents as an amateur photographer, in order to perpetuate on negatives the splendid picture in which the _Virgo_ was set, now appearing reduced to Liliputian proportions.

Our general quarters were established on the ruins of an encampment which had belonged to a party of Siberian hunters who spent the whole of last year on this spot.

There are many fragments of driftwood cast ashore by the waves, and numerous bones; a sailor picked up an enormous vertebra of a whale, and the doctor extracted a molar from the jaw of a bear (the bear was no longer there to protest).

The pilot went to explore the sea from the top of the mountains. No change this morning in the state of the ice.

We reassembled on the _Virgo_ for lunch at two o’clock. Andrée went in the ship’s boat to shoot seals, but without hitting any. After lunch we returned to the shore, and each of us occupied himself according to his taste. The sky cleared up, and a very cold and cutting east wind arose. The boat was tossed about a good deal as we returned, and the current drove before it all the pieces of ice floating in the bay. At 11.30 p.m., at the moment when I am writing these lines, a sun-ray is falling through my porthole, and the wind is whistling with some violence.

_Saturday, June 20th, 4 a.m._—Pleasant awakening at the mouth of the Bay of Ice-Fjord, opposite the _Raftsund_, which has been at anchor since last night.

Weather dull, a fine cold rain. A boat comes towards us, bringing a correspondent of the paper _Aftonbladet_, of Stockholm, who is to accompany us to Norsk-Oarna.

A small boat brings my friend Vieillard, who is the bearer of despatches for me. We spend two hours together, and my joy is great at seeing him again, and at last hearing news from my family. Then the moment of parting comes. M. Vieillard rejoins his vessel in order to return to France; he takes with him my letters and despatches. I take several negatives of the _Raftsund_, a splendid boat; and the _Virgo_ then continues her course towards the north, after having exchanged the customary salutes.

The sea is free from ice, and the _Virgo_ is now going ahead full speed.

_Sunday, 21st._—Towards 2 a.m. we arrive in sight of the Norsk-Oarna Islands, the place intended for the erection of the shed and the future centre of our operations.

During the morning we take a reconnoitring trip by boat round the islands in order to find a favourable place, accessible to our vessel, the unloading of which will be very difficult in the absence of a landing quay and all the plant usually available in any port.

The charts which we possess of this region are very inaccurate. Andrée takes a survey of several points of the coast. The huntsmen in the boat bagged about ten eider-geese. We gave up the idea of establishing ourselves here, and in the afternoon we reached the Isle of Amsterdam, 7½ miles to the south-west.

The sky is clear, the air is keen and cutting.

_Monday morning._—The three explorers made a fresh survey, and Andrée finally decided on the little vale of Dansk-Gatt as the point where we are to establish ourselves.

The place is sheltered on all sides by high mountains, opening out to the north only upon the open sea. A wooden hut, formerly constructed by an Englishman, Mr. Pike, will serve us as a shelter, and we shall leave there the surplus of our reserve store of provisions. This hospitable little house already possesses a depôt of preserved provisions, coal, and various articles. The ground is strewn with pieces of rock and covered with snow, into which one sinks up to one’s knees.

_Tuesday, June 23rd._—At 6 a.m. the vessel began to unload; all the boats are out at sea. The _Virgo_ cannot approach nearer than within 164 yards of the bank. The disembarkation of the balloon and the gas plant will present very serious difficulties, and will certainly take up much precious time.

Thermometer 2° (35·6 Fahr.) above freezing point. Barometer 29·92 inches. Wind south-west, fresh. Sky cloudy, clear patches at rare intervals. Sun very hot. Sea calm. The steam launch has got up steam. Mr. Pike’s yacht came to visit the house on the 16th inst. This little structure, built entirely of wood like the Norwegian houses, is comfortable enough; it contains a dining-room, bed-rooms, and a kitchen. There are stoves in all the rooms, and our sailors have lighted them in order to dry the walls; the lock shuts badly, and the door is kept to with a piece of ice. The garret serves excellently as a dove-cot, and we install our pigeons there, but they will not be so comfortable there as in their ordinary pigeon-house; nevertheless, it will be a convenient shelter for them. These pigeons have been trained at Hammerfest. We have already despatched several while at sea, but do not know yet whether they have returned to Norway.

_Wednesday, June 24th._—The unloading of the vessel proceeds rapidly. The site for the shed is ready, and the carpenters are starting work.

This shed, intended to shelter the balloon, deserves special mention. Designed in a very ingenious manner, it was erected at Gothenburg, where the inhabitants of the town could inspect it before it was dismantled for shipment. It is of octagonal shape, and consists of four storeys, each measuring 196·8545 inches in height. The various storeys are joined to each other by means of bolts; the last storey is surmounted by a balcony all round.

In order to facilitate re-erection in Spitzbergen, the component parts of each storey are marked with marks of different colour. The floor of the shed is composed of timber work, all meeting in the centre, and made fast on the rocks with pieces of wood, for the ground is very irregular, and it is impossible to level it.

On the east and west sides, two staircases lead to the balcony, and at the same time serve to strengthen the structure.

The re-erection of this shed at Dane’s Island was very laborious. It was carried out with much skill by the two master carpenters, assisted by the crew.

It was necessary, first of all, to remove the snow which covered the ground, to lay foundations, and join together the beams, which were put up and shifted by means of a hand-winch placed in the centre of the structure, and slewing all round.

The work was frequently interfered with by storms, which compelled the carpenters to interrupt their task.

The framework, when once put up, was closed in with large panels of wood prepared in Sweden.

The upper part of the shed is carried up on the south side, above the rest of the structure, by means of beams 16 feet 4 inches high, carrying a canvas cover, intended to protect the top of the balloon against a violent wind.

A movable roof or canvas awning, sliding on wire cables, was intended to protect the balloon against snow. Unfortunately time did not permit of putting it up in position.

_June 26th._—In the morning the sun appeared; the sky is very clear, and the snow is slowly melting. The temperature is pleasant to-day; but now, in the afternoon, the cirri are approaching, and I believe that the fine weather will not last long.

The _Virgo_, relieved of part of its cargo, was able to get within 66 yards of the shore. The crew then proceeded to discharge the heavy packages, hydrogen generators, and the case containing the balloon. The three ship’s boats, coupled together, were made up into a kind of raft, hauled by the steam launch.

In order to bring ashore these packages, which weighed from two to three tons, it was found necessary to form a roadway (or a kind of inclined plane), with the aid of two large pine logs brought from Norway, and to haul them by means of a pulley tackle drawn by the whole of the crew.

One is struck with the calm and intense stillness which reigns in these regions remote from all civilization. The mountain birds alone break its monotony, and give us a joyous concert.

In roaming over the islands, one is surprised at the number of tumuli and human remains to be met with. This is because Spitzbergen, too, has its history, and that a rather troubled one; but we will not speak of it here.

IV

The _Victoria_—Bear Hunting

On the 27th of June, in the afternoon, our attention is attracted by the arrival of a vessel coming from the north. It is always a pleasant event to come across other navigators in these distant regions; it makes one feel less lonely and isolated. It is Mr. Pick’s _Victoria_, commanded by Captain Nilson, who hunts bears and seals on these shores. She casts anchor near the _Virgo_. We enter a boat and go to welcome the travellers.

Andrée obtains some information from the captain as to the state of the ice in the north. I pay a visit to the boat, which, though otherwise plain and rough, is nevertheless fitted up to perfection for the peculiar nature of her expeditions. She contains various objects which are not without interest for me, who am a new-comer to these regions, such as skins of bears and various birds; also a live young bear, captured at the Norwegian islands, which utters ominous growls, and seems to protest energetically against this outrage upon its liberty.

Sunday, the 28th of June, was an eventful day, and full of emotions. The _Victoria_ left at 9 a.m. for Ice-Fjord, taking with her an enormous parcel of letters, with our best wishes for our nearest and dearest.

After an early lunch we started for an excursion. Strindberg, Grumberg, Arrhénius, Dr. Ekelund, two engineers, two sailors, and myself, went off in the steam launch.

The weather was superb, the sea calm, the sky a little misty; some pretty cumuli touched the summits of the mountains. We steamed round Dane’s Island, and shaped our course towards Smeerenburg.

Our little boat goes ahead full speed, and gives herself up to a mad race among floating ice-blocks which cover the surface of the bay.

The spectacle is marvellous. We are surrounded by imposing rocks, whence the snow descends in capricious veins and furrows, and whose craggy summits, gilded by a glowing sun, are set off against an azure sky of exceeding purity. These granite rocks, of grotesque and erratic shape, throw the most fantastic shadows upon the white surface of the glaciers.

The atmosphere is so transparent that it is very difficult to estimate distances merely by the eye. The mountains are from 2,000 to 3,000 feet high, and yet at first sight one would think that they are very easy to climb. I have very often been misled by this optical illusion. Sounds can be heard very clearly at a great distance.

We cross the course of the little sailing boat of Stadling, the correspondent of the Stockholm _Aftonbladet_, and the colombophile of the polar expedition.

He is also starting on a journey of discovery, together with two companions.

We take our course towards the east, and land on a little islet covered with moss.

Our guns bring down several eider-geese, and on setting foot ashore we came across several nests of these birds, containing three or four eggs of the size of goose eggs and of a greyish-green colour.

But our survey is soon made, and we resume our course in a south-easterly direction, where we can already see the outline of the Isle of Moffen, which is the goal of our excursion.

This isle presents a singular contrast with the surrounding mountains, owing to the vigour of its colouring, which changes from a light-green to a dark-brown.

The mosses of different varieties, interspersed with yellowish lichens and saxifrages of a delicate violet tint, offer us a soft carpet, inviting to rest, and delighting to the eye.

Thousands of birds, making a deafening noise, inhabit this enchanted land.

But their tranquillity is disturbed by our prosaic and insatiable hunters, who give themselves up to a veritable hecatomb of game. They have scarcely got ashore, and about one hundred eider-geese are already lying on the ground. They are so numerous and so unsuspecting that they will scarcely move away more than a few yards from us; one can easily see that their solitude is rarely disturbed by visitors of our species, or at least of an equally bellicose character.

They much resemble our domestic ducks, and one might easily imagine one’s self in the midst of a park or a poultry yard. At one moment I had about ten around me, come to drink or bathe in a little brook of clear water, which babbled in a cascade over the moss and pebbles.

At every step one comes across a nest made of moss and feathers, sheltered by a fragment of rock. The female bird has plucked off her softest down to protect her eggs or her brood against the frost. The brooding bird is scarcely disturbed by our approach. She covers up her eggs and hides them under the down before taking her flight, if she is given time to do so. The reports of the gun repeated again and again by the echo reverberating from the mountains resemble the rolling of thunder and make a hideous din.

At four o’clock, a lunch, highly appreciated, is served out on a bank of moss. This meal, partaken with vigorous appetite, consists of ham, caviar, and slices of smoked reindeer-flesh; the whole being washed down with light beer, and seasoned by the most unrestrained gaiety. A pure Havannah cigar completes this most unconventional feast.

We fill our lungs with the pure air, and feel it a joy to live.

But time glides swiftly by, and we must think of returning. We are two hours’ journey from the _Virgo_.

Our sailors make an extensive raid upon the nests, and return loaded with baskets full of eggs and down. The game is put on board and we depart.

As we run along, the coast and glaciers are covered with seals, but the noise of our engine frightens them and they flee at our approach.

The sea has become rough, and the wind, which takes us port, sends up waves which threaten to swamp the boat. We are much tossed about, but I can now stand the rolling of the vessel like an old mariner. However, we must not boast: one cannot be too sure of anything. The temperature has gone down perceptibly, and the cumuli, which a short time ago were hovering on the sides of the mountains, are now lowering down upon the sea, and soon envelop us completely. We are now in the midst of a very dense and cold fog. We can scarcely see a few yards in front of us, and we must slacken speed in order to avoid collision with the icebergs detached from the glaciers. The sun, which, a moment ago, still showed very feebly, has completely disappeared. We are plunged into utter darkness, and in spite of compass and charts we have, for the moment, lost our bearings. What a change, after the aspect of the sky a short while ago! The engineer whistles by way of a call to the _Virgo_, but there is no response from that vessel.

Without being actually desperate, our situation is becoming critical, as we no longer know exactly what distance we have covered.

We run a risk of passing our island without perceiving it, and of getting lost at sea!

At last, after several detours, we recognise the lagoons of the Isle of Amsterdam on the right, and soon a sailor points out the _Virgo_, which looms in the semi-darkness at a distance of fifty yards or so in front of us.

At this moment it is 8 p.m. The captain, Andrée, and Ekholm are on the deck. Without being alarmed at our fate, they were glad enough to see us back again; but Stadling’s boat has not yet come back.

The mist becomes thicker and thicker, and one can scarcely see from one end of the vessel to the other. One of the crew is ringing the bell every few moments, in order to indicate the route to the three belated tourists. The supper passes off very gaily. Each recounts his adventures and describes his impressions; mine have been of a very lively nature. But the day had still a far more remarkable event in store for us.

We were beginning to be rather troubled about the fate of our friends, when at about 10 p.m., having gone up on to the gangway to see how the fog was, I heard, very faintly at first, a murmuring sound, then a song keeping time with the splash of oars. No doubt it is they; evidently they, too, have lost their way.

The outline of the gallant little craft appears a few yards away, and the boat comes on propelled by oars, as they had been compelled to take down their sail. But what is that shapeless mass, of a doubtful white, spotted with red, which fills the bottom of the boat?

Although worn out with fatigue, the excursionists are radiant; they have performed veritable prodigies: they have been bear-hunting, and bring back three dead bears in their frail boat.

They are at once the object of an enthusiastic ovation, while the animals—a large she-bear and two cubs—are hoisted on board, leaving a pool of blood in the bottom of the little boat.

You already know Stadling, permit me to introduce his two companions—Appelberg, engineering student of the Stockholm technical school, and Axel Stack, chemical engineer at the Stockholm University—and let the first-named gentleman recount in his own words the circumstances of this somewhat dramatic adventure:—

“You will remember the charming day we had on the 28th of June; the sun glistened on the waters of Smeerenburg as on a mirror, the surrounding mountains enhancing the wildness and grandeur of the scene. You will also remember the glacier at the bottom of Smeerenburg. I have told you about the adventure we had opposite this glacier, when in consequence of a sudden split a detached mass of enormous size produced in the sea an immense wave, which threatened to engulph our small boat and gave us an unexpected douche.

“Immediately after this adventure I hastened to take a photo of the glacier. While searching for a suitable point, I discovered in the snow on the shore the track of three bears going from east to west, in the direction of South-Gatt and the open sea. Having informed my companions of this lucky find, I returned to the boat, followed by my friends, one of whom was gravely engaged in drying his clothes in the sun, after the enforced bath caused by the splitting of the glacier.

“Thereupon a rather original chase commenced; my companions rowed, whilst I held the rudder lines, at the same time observing through my glasses the tracks on the bank and following their direction. The tracks of the bears led us continually from east to west. Here and there the animals evidently had rested in some natural trenches formed in the snow. In other places there were sloping grooves on the bank, where the bears had amused themselves by sliding on these natural sledges. Having passed two promontories and a very old glacier, we arrived at a third promontory, beyond which there was another glacier about 1¼ mile wide. In front of it there was an iceberg.

“When we arrived at the extreme point of the promontory, we stopped, as no further tracks were visible; from this we concluded that the bears must be somewhere in the neighbourhood.

“Having reconnoitred as far as the firm ice, protected by large icebergs, I perceived the bears below the glacier, jumping one after another from a block of ice. The mother, followed by her cubs, was giving herself up to this exercise either to amuse herself or to give her young ones a lesson in gymnastics,—I do not know which.

“At any rate I watched with curiosity for some moments this scene of ursine family life. It was an exceedingly curious sight, I assure you. But this patriarchal and rustic scene was destined soon to come to an end, thanks to the huntsman’s instinct which suddenly awoke within me. I felt bound, at all cost, to kill this interesting family, the mother and her cubs. Why? Who can reason with passion, who can reason with a hunter! Without further idle reflection, and as the chief of a gang who has resolved upon an immediate attack on a long-desired prey, I ordered my comrades to remain in the boat until I returned, and on my knees I crept over the ice, behind the fragments of rocks, towards the three animals. This ice was perforated like a sieve, and the water fell from it in small cascades with a continuous and monotonous noise; small fragments were detaching themselves from it every moment, without, however, retarding my progress.

“Regardless of all risk, I continued to drag myself along behind fragments of rocks and approached to within about 430 yards of my quarry. Now I had no longer any shelter; I was exposed to view. Then I took a long aim, fired and wounded one of the cubs. The mother rushed towards it, sometimes looking about her, and sometimes licking the poor beast.

“I could see her very closely with my glasses. I fired a second time, and the mother then turned furiously towards me. My cartridges had got damp and missed fire. I became nervous. I was obliged to go and fetch fresh ammunition from the boat. The she-bear gave up her first idea of attacking me and returned to her cubs.

“Then, having taken fresh ammunition, we commenced, all three of us, to drive the animals towards the open water, and at last, to our delight, saw the mother, followed by her cubs, start swimming. Mr. Stack remained on the ice armed with an oar, in order to cut off their retreat; Appelberg and myself gave chase from the boat. The she-bear, with one of the cubs on her back, swam at a fairly good pace towards us. We had scarcely had time to row three or four minutes before the mother had climbed upon a large block of ice floating in the midst of the open water. Having approached to within fifty or sixty yards I fired again, and my bullet striking the bear between the two shoulders, passed through her lungs. The animal uttered a terrible cry, which was re-echoed from the mountains. In a great fury she threw herself into the sea, swimming towards us with rage, but only for a few moments. The poor beast soon died, still carrying on her back the cub which I had first wounded. It was at once killed, and the other immediately afterwards.

“We thereupon dragged the animals towards the ice-bank, where I photographed my victims, stretched out lifeless; and it was not without much difficulty that we succeeded in putting them aboard our frail boat. At last we started on our return to the _Virgo_, still full of excitement, when suddenly we were caught in the fog in the midst of the Smeerenburg waters.”

The next day the ice pilot, an old sea-dog, assisted by Stadling, proceeded to cut up the three animals, the skins of which were salted, and enclosed in barrels; after this the most delicate morsels, seasoned with various sauces by the cook, who displayed all her talents, adorned the table at several meals. Without being absolutely exquisite, the dish is appetising, and besides, the chance of dining off polar bear does not occur very often.

V

The Midnight Sun

_Friday, July 3rd._—I have not put foot on shore to-day. For three days past we have had terrible weather, and I wonder whether the shed will be able to resist the fury of such a wind. However, this is an east south-east wind, which would suit perfectly well for the voyage, though the start would be very difficult under these circumstances; this delays the work of the carpenters, and the shed does not rise up very quickly. I felt very dull to-day, and was happy enough to read again all the old journals which had served for packing purposes, as I am not very well stocked with works of a purely literary character, a few volumes only composing my whole library. I also read again the expedition of the _Jeannette_, which Andrée had lent me, and the dramatic episodes of that story were not calculated to raise my spirits. What an extraordinary climate!

In these regions fine days are very rare, though it is clear all night; but for a long time past the sun has scarcely been seen. The thermometer remains near freezing-point.

But the midnight sun! What a never-to-be-forgotten spectacle is presented by this polar sea in these radiant nights!

As soon as the fog lifts its veil, leaving the eye at full liberty to roam over the horizon, one sees an endless succession of palaces of ice, strong castles, cathedrals, and fantastical structures, some majestically indifferent to the waves which caress their mighty bases, the others slowly rocking to and fro, notwithstanding their ponderous masses, and at each oscillation of their sparkling faces emitting from their alabaster sides rocket-like flashes of emeralds, rubies, and sapphires.

Numerous cascades pour down from the vast sides of these icebergs into basins formed in the very bases of these enormous ice-mountains, subsequently losing themselves in the waters of the sea; and all these waterfalls, large and small, are lit up by the hot, red rays of a brilliant sun.

This polar nature, which one imagines to be so poor, so icy, so inert, in regions which we only know from dull and cold narratives of voyages,—this wonderful nature lavishly spreads out before my eyes the sight of an endless mass of sparkling and flashing diamonds, a veritable pyrotechnic display of another world, which the rays of the sun cause to burst forth, and change twenty times in a minute.

And all this, like a sublime jewel casket, rests on velvet of an unheard-of variety, delicate green, pale pink, orange red, crimson, bright red, purple, golden yellow, violet, sky-blue, a marvellous velvet of deep soft and delicately shaded tints, which the calm and irradiated water seems to spread out for the greater delight of the eye and the soul.

In the presence of all this grand and mighty nature, what becomes of man’s most ingenious artifices invented to charm by the excess of accumulated marvels?

How paltry are the most superb decorations of his theatres compared with what one sees here—here where the water alone and the sun undertake the _mise en scène_! What are all the marvels hatched by his brain, by his sovereign industry, in the presence of miracles of colouring and brilliancy engendered by a ray of light penetrating a fragment of ice?

_Tuesday, July 7th._—We had very bad weather on Saturday; on Sunday the atmosphere calmed down a little, and yesterday (Monday) we had a splendid day. We took advantage of this to make an interesting excursion in the steam launch to Magdaleina Bay. The peninsula contains an immense necropolis, dating back several centuries; it is here that the whalers of Smeerenburg came to bury their dead.

We killed a very large seal, which nearly caused the boat to capsize when we got him on board. Strindberg killed a black fox at the foot of a glacier.

We returned at midnight in brilliant sunshine; in fact, at present we constantly see the sun when the sky is clear. He is describing a circle, of which the _Virgo_ appears to be the centre, and the sunshine is sometimes very hot. This morning the temperature was 68° Fahr. in the sun, and 41° Fahr. in the shade.

The work of erecting the shed is being pushed on as quickly as possible, but it is a gigantic task. To-day they have reached the second storey; there are to be two more storeys above that, and these are the most difficult ones to erect.

In the midst of this feverish work the days pass anxiously by, for I have had no news from Europe. I am already much perturbed, when at last, on the night of July 12th, after a very dull day, the watch all at once signals the arrival of a small sloop, which is sure to bring our mail. In a few moments everybody is on deck, and the captain of the small boat, the _Express_, hands us an enormous bundle of letters, which Andrée distributes among us. I received fourteen, and it would be difficult for me to express the joy I felt at this moment.

The _Express_ brings six English and German tourists, who have come, somewhat early, to be present at the departure of the balloon. They are received on board the _Virgo_, and evince a very lively interest in Andrée’s project.

VI

National Fête

_On board the “Virgo,” July 14th, at night._—The bad weather continues, and the squall is so violent that the little sloop _Express_ has been unable to put to sea. We have a very gay lunch. Andrée made a little speech, which greatly moved me. He spoke of the national fête in France and of aerostation, which I represent. He praised the self-denial which I had exhibited, and finally expressed to me the pleasure he felt in seeing the bonds of friendship becoming closer day by day. He did not forget either family or friends.

The captain ordered the French _tricolore_ to be hoisted on the mainmast and the ship to be dressed with bunting. Champagne sparkled in the glasses.

Strindberg played the national air, and those present overwhelmed me with kind attentions. The following letter will give an idea of the close friendship which reigned amongst us:—

“On Board the _Virgo_, Dansk-Gatt,
_July 14th, 1896._

“To MADAME LACHAMBRE, Paris.

“DEAR MADAME,—

“To-day being the national _fête_ day of your native country,
_la belle France_, we gladly seized the welcome opportunity
to present to M. Lachambre our sincere thanks for the great
services which he has rendered to our expedition by the careful
and excellent work which he has executed, and for his personal
attendance here in order to give us the benefit of his valuable
experience. Certainly, this voyage has been a great sacrifice,
both for you and for him, and it is, therefore, our duty to
thank you as well as M. Lachambre.

“We have this day drunk the health of M. and Madame Lachambre,
at the same time hoisting the tricolour and singing the
‘Marseillaise.’ On this occasion Andrée has had the honour
of fixing on M. Lachambre’s breast the decoration of the
Academical Palms, and we have congratulated him with enthusiasm
on receiving this well-merited distinction.

“We beg you will rest assured, Dear Madame, that we are doing
our best to minimise the inconveniences resulting to M.
Lachambre from a life in these very inhospitable regions.

“We are, Dear Madame,

“Yours most respectfully,

(Signed) “S. A. ANDRÉE; NILS
EKHOLM; NILS STRINDBERG;
ZACHAU, captain of the
_Virgo_; GOSTE GRUMBERG,
zoologist; CARL EKELUND,
physician; SVANTE
ARRHÉNIUS, hydrographer.”

And while Strindberg strummed on his violin the most poetical and impassioned Swedish tunes, the wind raged outside and the vessel rocked and creaked fearfully.

_Dansk-Gatt, on board the “Virgo,” July 16th, noon._—The storm, after calming down for a short time, burst forth again last night with renewed violence, and the _Express_, which left at eight, was obliged to return in haste some hours afterwards to take shelter near the _Virgo_.

The _Virgo_ is a strong vessel, capable of braving a storm, but it is otherwise with the small sloop, which already has barely escaped shipwreck in coming here.

VII

The Inflation

_July 21st._—To-day for the first time we were able to commence devoting our attention to the balloon, which, since its disembarkation, has remained enclosed in its case at the foot of the shed.

It is now brought to the entrance and extended on the floor, covered with a thick layer of felt.

It is spread out after the manner of a cast-net, the valves are fitted to it, together with their rigging, the net is placed in position, as well as the protecting cover.

The inflating pipes, passing through an opening made in the middle of the floor, are joined to the gas apparatus situated 87 yards away below the shed, behind Pike House.

This very difficult work (the envelope alone of the balloon weighs nearly 3,086 lbs., and the net 992 lbs.) was finished in the evening of the 22nd, in a fine and penetrating rain. On the morning of the 23rd snow commenced to fall in large flakes. The balloon is covered by it with a thick layer, when about a hundred cubic feet of gas commence to raise with difficulty the heavy envelope of silk. This operation commences even before the shed is quite finished. Part of the upper enclosures is still wanting, and Andrée abandons the idea of having the canvas awning put up, which, however, would have been very useful; but time presses, and every delay may jeopardize the departure.

The car, installed in an annex to the shed, is marvellously devised. The lower part is completely surrounded with sailcloth. It receives its light through two lateral windows. The middle is occupied by a kind of mattress, covered with a sleeping sack of reindeer skins.

All around are compartments for holding books, charts, and instruments, toilet articles, and the kitchen utensils, arms, ammunition, etc. It is entered through a trap-door made in the ceiling. Above, at a height of one metre, a ring, mounted on jointed railings, which keep it in a horizontal position, forms a balcony, in the centre of which two of the explorers will remain while the third is resting. To this circle the instruments,—compasses, sextants, theodolites, barometers, thermometers, photographic appliances, etc., are attached.

The six ropes, by which the car is suspended, are joined at the upper part by a cable, which brings them nearer to the centre, while keeping them away from the balcony; they then extend from this hexagon towards the suspension ring, which is fastened to the net.

Six canvas pockets, with compartments, are fixed between the suspending ropes from the ceiling of the car up to the balcony, for the reception of any articles or instruments which the aeronauts may require to have at hand at any moment.

The load ring carries a table or board divided into compartments occupied by four baskets intended to hold a number of accessories, buoys, grapnels, ropes, etc.

In the centre of the platform a square opening leaves room for a rope ladder, attached to the appendage of the balloon, and facilitates the inspection of the interior through windows let into the safety valve. This platform may, if necessary, serve as a refuge for the aeronauts, should they be compelled to abandon the car.

The load ring supports a differential pulley for moving the guide-ropes, the action of which, combined with that of the sail, is to afford the possibility of a certain deviation from the direction of the wind.

The sails are fixed to the net by hemp straps.

The three guide-ropes are attached to this pulley by a very ingenious piece of mechanism. With the aid of a crank and a bevel gear, the guide-ropes, which are composed of several sections joined to each other by screw connections, can be turned. Should the end of a guide-rope get caught between the ice to such an extent as to arrest the flight of the balloon, the aeronauts can release themselves by exerting an effect of torsion on this guide-rope by means of the crank, and abandoning the length of rope caught; a fresh length of guide-rope will then be added at the top if necessary, making use of spare lengths of rope.

In order to prevent the guide-ropes becoming detached at an inopportune moment, Andrée has devised the plan of providing a spring consisting of a flat piece of steel which exerts a pressure upon the connecting screw nut; the pressure of these springs is graduated, increasing upwards, so that it will always be the lowest length of rope which will detach itself first. These guide-ropes are impregnated with vaseline, which renders them insubmersible and greatly facilitates their gliding over the ice.

Above the ring, victuals and provisions of all kinds are stored in canvas bags divided into compartments and strongly fastened between the suspending ropes; all the articles are fixed so that no shock can throw them out.

The number of suspending ropes is forty-eight, forming forty-eight equal intervals, of which thirty-six are occupied by bags of provisions, and twelve by sledges, boats, spars, etc.

The provisions comprise tins of preserved food of all kinds, chocolate, compressed bread, condensed milk, champagne, claret, alcohol, fresh water, not forgetting butter, an indispensable article of diet in the polar regions.

All these bags are weighed, classified, and labelled, and make up a weight of 2,204 lbs. What is not consumed will serve as ballast, Andrée having considered it more practical to carry provisions in place of ballast.

The apparatus for cooking the food consists of a cylinder suspended by a strap 32 feet 6 inches in length, along which a rubber tube runs; inside the cylinder a spirit lamp is lighted by being brought in contact with a match ignited with the aid of a small and very simple contrivance worked by a cord.

A small cooking pot filled with water, and enclosed in the cylinder, can be made to boil in a few moments. The lamp can be extinguished from the car by blowing down the rubber tube, and a mirror, arranged at an angle of 45 degrees, enables the occupants of the car to see whether the lamp is well extinguished before hoisting the apparatus up into the car.

VIII

The _Erline Jarl_

_Dansk-Gatt, July 23rd._—The south wind, which has blown almost constantly since our arrival at Dansk-Gatt, ceased on the 19th of July, and north and north-easterly winds are now blowing, with their usual accompaniment of rain or snow.

The gas-working apparatus acts very regularly, yielding about 78 cubic yards per hour.

The work is divided into spells of six hours at a time, the first watch, from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m., being entrusted to me. I am assisted by two seamen only, one of whom speaks French fairly well,—viz., a Mr. Knos, engineer, who has signed for the voyage. My place is then taken by Strindberg, who, in his turn, is relieved by Andrée, whom I succeed again.

At 11 p.m. the sound of a siren breaks the stillness of the night, awakening the echoes of the mountains. I then see the _Erline Jarl_, a splendid boat, flying the Norwegian flag, coming on slowly and majestically, in order to cast anchor at some distance from the _Virgo_.

Around the place where the sulphates and residues of the hydrogen apparatus discharge into the sea, the sea-water has assumed a rusty colour for a distance of several miles. This peculiarity causes great astonishment among the new arrivals, who imagine that they can see the sea-bottom.

Captain Zachau, of the _Virgo_, goes to welcome the new-comers, and returns on board his vessel with a load of letters for our crew.

The snow falls thicker and thicker, and the shed does not afford the least protection. I have a kind of sentry-box rigged up for me in the packing-case for the net of the balloon.

We experienced much difficulty at the commencement of the inflation, and I am frequently compelled to obtain assistance from the gas works, the material of the balloon being so very heavy to shift about.

I may mention one incident in particular. The balloon had already absorbed 1,308 cubic yards of gas, when the apparatus suddenly stopped and absolutely refused to act, which caused great excitement among the members of the expedition. What does it mean? Here is the solution of the enigma.

The pump, which draws its supply from the sea, has taken up such a quantity of shrimps that all the cocks are choked up. We scarcely expected to see shrimps interfere in this matter.

Andrée, who had thought of everything else, had forgotten to reckon with these diminutive factors. The generators and valves are cleared out and cleaned, and the suction pipe is fitted with a rose, whereupon work goes on without any further hitch.

For the production of the hydrogen 55,115 lbs. of sulphuric acid and 33,069 lbs. of iron shavings have been used. All that chemistry and physical science has hitherto produced by way of purifying, weighing, and testing instruments is embodied in Andrée’s plant.

On the morning of the 24th of July the tourists brought over by the _Erline Jarl_ begin to arrive on the island; there are about sixty of them, from all countries. Several of them bring me news from my friends, and an acquaintance is soon struck up. We are assailed with questions on all hands. Andrée does the honours of the establishment with much grace, and propounds his theories as to the means he proposes to adopt in his endeavours to reach the pole. He explains the instruments and apparatus, while I distribute among the tourists some samples of the material employed for the balloon.

We hear news from Europe, always acceptable to a degree which no one can conceive who has never been far away from his native country. Besides, in these wild regions everything tends to augment the unconscious longing for all that one has left behind, and those who come from a region more or less near to one’s native country at once assume something of the nature of long-expected personal friends.

The night of the 24th is spent very pleasantly. I dine on board the _Erline Jarl_, and hear a concert given by real artistes. My thoughts wander back to scenes of the past, and I say to myself that had some one sitting next to me at a concert in Paris told me at the time that in so many months, or at such and such a time, I should hear the same instruments and enjoy the same tunes at Spitzbergen, I should have been very much surprised at such a suggestion.

_Saturday, 25th._—At noon the small sloop _Express_ arrives, carrying mails. At 1 p.m. the _Erline Jarl_ leaves on a trip towards the north. The programme consists in approaching close to the ice-field, and the amiable Captain Bade offers me a place on board his ship. But, however much inclined to accept, I cannot leave Andrée at this moment, as the balloon demands all our attention.

_Sunday, 26th._—Andrée lectures to our crew. His spirited and expressive language, his technical explanations, given with perfect clearness, frequently elicit loud applause.

_Monday, 27th._—The inflation is completed at the moment when the _Erline Jarl_ returns from her trip.

The _Victoria_ arrives at night, and the simultaneous presence of the four vessels gives Dansk-Gatt a festive air, which is greatly enhanced by the lovely sunshine. Our little international colony is very lively.

After waiting a week in order to witness the start of the balloon, the tourists lose patience. They want to be at Vadso on the 9th of August to see the eclipse of the sun.

On July 30th a sumptuous dinner is given us on board the _Erline Jarl_, and on the 31st the tourists come in a body to the foot of the shed.

To the right and to the left of the entrance the crews of the _Virgo_ and the _Erline Jarl_ are formed up in line; at the back the passengers are grouped round the explorers. Several speeches are made by the captain of the _Erline Jarl_ and some of the tourists; thereupon a young lady, who is travelling with her _fiancé_ and a relative, attaches to Andrée’s arm a blue ribbon, and then hands him for the journey a bottle of the best wine, a cake, and a rose-tree with four roses, one for each explorer.

Captain Bade, of the _Erline Jarl_, then addressed Andrée as follows:—

“If you reach the mysterious point for which you are bound, deposit there the fourth of the roses, as a token of peace with the old world.”

“My dear friend,” Andrée replied, in accents full of emotion, “you who have come so far to see me set out for the conquest of the unknown, my dear friends, I thank you!

“Mademoiselle, you have adorned me with a ribbon on the eve of my departure; this ribbon shall be my talisman. I have been called a great man, but it will be difficult for me to earn this title if the north winds still continue to blow for some weeks as they do now. Our greatness will fly with them—far, far away! What can we do to remedy this? If we cannot make a start, we shall, at least, be able to say that we have done all that is humanly possible, and you will be able to bear witness thereto.

“You are about to return to the south, and if you meet the winds we are so urgently in need of, send them on to us here, and we shall welcome them as messengers from our good friends on board the _Erline Jarl_.

“My friends of the _Virgo_, a fourfold cheer for our friends who will send us a South Wind!”

During this touching speech the _Erline Jarl_ fires off a salvo of twenty-one guns in honour of the Andrée Expedition, the report of which shook the valleys to the echo.

Thereupon, the speeches being over, we leave the isle in order to spend the rest of the night on board the _Erline Jarl_, which is dressed, as is also the _Virgo_, with a multitude of flags, as on great gala days, and I never feel weary of contemplating the noble colours of the French flag proudly floating at the head of the splendid vessel,—a delicate compliment to me on the part of the captain, which moves me more than I can tell.

How full of meaning to me is this flag! How full of souvenirs and consolation! And how well one can understand, when far away from his native country, all the silent eloquence of this impersonal being, this glorious symbol! Amidst all these people, speaking languages which I do not understand, amidst all this group of men isolated at the world’s end, and I myself feeling lost in the midst of them, so to speak, owing to the difficulty of making myself understood by them, it contains a living embodiment of my native land, the very representative of the soil of France—her flag hoisted on a foreign vessel in token of the esteem in which the children of this noble country are held. And this flag seems to say to me: “You are not alone; I am here too! You are no longer isolated; we are _some one_; we are taken into account here!”

We go on board, and soon the peaceful reports of champagne corks—another reminder of French soil—accentuate the numerous toasts which follow each other in the large saloon. Then our spirits becoming more and more elated, there are songs, cheers, the loud hum of animated conversation, wishes of good luck, plans for future meetings, and we leave the hospitable vessel in order to return to the _Virgo_ at a very advanced hour.

What a day! And how hearts are drawn to each other under circumstances like these, when at rare intervals, few and far between, the oppressive and monotonous loneliness of arduous travels in these frigid solitudes is suddenly broken by boisterous meetings of persons, hitherto strangers, who are so speedily transformed into old friends!

_August 1st, 9 a.m._—Under a misty sky, heavy with snow, the _Erline Jarl_ hoists her anchor, sweeps round majestically, sends us her last farewells and good wishes, and then slowly glides away over the waters, leaving behind her a foamy wake. The throbs of her engine become more and more regular; soon we no longer hear them; and it is with a choking sensation in our bosom, which will readily be understood, that we see this fine vessel outlined and gradually disappearing on the horizon, which, for a short moment, had come to bring life and joy into our midst.

Yet a long time after, leaning with my arms on the handrail of the gangway, I followed with my eyes the black cloud of smoke which the _Erline Jarl_ trails over the waves; I still hear a last salute from the siren, and return in deep thought to my cabin, in a sadder frame of mind than I should care to admit.

Grumberg, the naturalist, is working unceasingly to enrich his collection; he dredges, fishes, hunts, and sets snares for foxes. He has succeeded in capturing two very young animals, which he has installed on the island, in a nice improvised cage, to which some anonymous wag has attached a card bearing one of the petitions of the Lord’s Prayer in Swedish: “Give us this day our daily bread.”

Grumberg watches his protégés with jealous care, and intends to offer them to a zoological garden in Stockholm; but on the night of the departure the foxes, who for a long time past had been working to effect their escape by gnawing through the boards of the cage, made good their escape and fled into the mountains, pursued by the sailors, who gave chase. They are not caught yet. I much doubt whether Grumberg will be able to catch them again next summer.

But who knows; Fate is so fitful! You ought, said some one, to have attached a “favour” to their tails, so as to recognise them again. I, on my part, remarked that these young foxes might, perhaps, have been acquainted with La Fontaine’s fable, entitled “The Little Fish and the Fisherman,” and that they would be sure to return to him as soon as they had grown to a reasonable size. And I amused myself by producing a revised copy of this fable, specially re-edited to meet the circumstances.

TRANSLATION.

The little fox will grow a big fox,
Provided God will grant him life;
But to release him in the meantime
I think would be foolish indeed.

Two foxes that were but foxlets, as yet,
Quite young little things,
Were captured by chance
By the good Doctor Grumberg
On the Isles of Spitzbergen.

“All is fish that comes to the net,” said he, on beholding his prey.

They will serve to start a collection;
Let us make a pretty cage for them.

One of these foxlets, regretting his captivity, said to him, in his own fashion,—

“What are you going to do with us? We should make a very poor present for a small museum.

“Let us grow up into foxes; you can catch us later on, some fine day, and a good museum will pay you a good price for us.

“Whereas, in order to make a gift worth giving, you would have to get about a hundred of our size, which gift, after all, would be little worth.”

Little worth? “Well then,” replied the hunter, “that may be.

“My good friend, Renard, you who preach so well, you must go into the cage; and you may say what you like, it will be made at once.

“‘One bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,’—one is sure and the other is not.”

But the two foxlets, deaf to these remarks,—possibly they did not understand the doctor’s language,—worked so hard and so well, that one day the learned man, in search of curiosities, found an empty cage.

The amiable Dr. Ekelund has rarely had any occasion to act in his professional character, as apart from a few jammed fingers and other minor injuries the state of health is excellent. Hence he employs his leisure time in pulling nails out of cases, or else he prepares for stuffing the birds of various species which he has killed when out hunting. During the inflation of the balloon, he superintends the action of the gas apparatus, and takes turns in this duty with Professor Arrhénius and Stake.

These gentlemen are also taking their share in the meteorological service which is carried on regularly by the staff of the expedition.

The observations are minutely recorded every hour in the ship’s log. On the Isle of Amsterdam the snow is tinged with red for a considerable distance, and the _savants_ are collecting it to examine it microscopically. It presents, in fact, certain peculiarities; it is thought that it contains very small plants. Scoresby, the famous whaler, had already remarked this.

IX

The Snow

_Dansk-Gatt, August 4th._—The _Express_ left last night, carrying away our last letters; and as the season is advanced, we have now no hope of receiving at Dansk-Gatt any more news from Europe.