Chapter III: Part 3

The north wind is still blowing, and has brought a regular snowstorm; the mountains have donned their winter mantle, and nature seems to prepare for sleep. Birds are becoming rare, and their joyful cries are no longer to be heard. A white hood covers the top of the balloon, which only awaits a current of wind from the south to take flight; but this wind, which was blowing during July, has now completely subsided. What an irony of fate! Who could foresee such a _contretemps_, and how admirably successful the expedition would have been were we in possession of the secrets of the gods.

At present the sky is overcast and dark in the north; it is a long time since the sun has shown itself. The sea is very rough.

The flag hoisted on top of the mountain, behind the balloon-shed, to indicate the direction of the wind, was blown down last night by the squall. It was the opinion of the ice-pilot that we were in no danger of being packed in the ice until the end of the month; but the captain, who was answerable for the safety of the men, declared that the _Virgo_ should weigh anchor on the 20th at the latest, at any cost, to resume her voyage southwards, no matter what the fate of the polar expedition might be.

Andrée and his two companions were patiently waiting for the clouds to break up and for a fresh southern wind, in order to take their flight. They have the faith which gives courage. The balloon seems anxious to be freed from her fetters to show her strength and her power. Everything is ready, weighed and anticipated; everything is seen to and checked in the smallest details by Andrée; provisions, instruments, and outfits, all are in their places.

We have only to suspend the car and to pull down the northern part of the shed. This would not take many hours, but we want a favourable wind, and for this we are waiting in vain. The delay, unavoidable though it is, endangers the success of Andrée’s expedition, and is very regrettable, for the sun is very low, and the polar night is approaching.

_August 5th, noon._—The snow keeps on falling, but the wind is turning to the south-west. It is almost what is required, and hope is quickly reviving. May Fate soon open the route to the north to Andrée, and return me to my country and my anxious family! At seven o’clock in the evening the state of the atmosphere remains unchanged; the snow is whirling about, and the sky is gloomy.

_Dansk-Gatt, August 6th._—A small balloon, launched at 6 o’clock, having ascended to the height of 325 yards, took an easterly direction. The gas apparatus is working; the balloon which has been inflated for ten days, is full. It is covered with snow and there is not a single spot on the balloon shed that is not white. The car is, however, protected by an awning, but the whirling snow penetrates everywhere.

It is impossible to stop on deck, for the wind is raging, and the day goes by in monotony and gloom. Every one longs for the end of this campaign which seems interminable; so long as tourists and whaling boats were moored near us, and brought with them life and movement to this solitary spot, our stay was very agreeable—it was a lively and cheerful international colony. Now Dansk-Gatt has resumed its mournful and forsaken aspect. “And the snow was still falling,” as Xavier de Montépin would say.

Then, confined within the walls of my cabin, my dominion of two square metres, I begin to peruse the few books I have and which, alas! I know already by heart, but still hoping to find therein something very interesting, if not new, at least old. And I was not disappointed, for I read over with great interest _La Mer_, by my playfellow, the excellent poet Jean Richepin, whose verses on snow were very much to the point.

It is long, long since, when sitting on the benches in our little school at Belleville, we were looking together over the top of the map of Europe at this small archipelago, named Spitzbergen, which appeared to my childest imagination to be an inaccessible point.

X

A Long Wait

_Smeerenburg, Friday, August 7th._—Noon. The sky is bright and the sun is sending us a few rays which are reviving our hopes a little. The snow is melting; but the wind, though slight, is still blowing from the west. The balloon which holds its gas well is dripping little by little.

I made a long excursion on the east side of Dane’s Island. The island of Fogll-Sund is glittering in the midday sun. The birds have awakened. I saw several flocks of eiders. At six o’clock four pilot balloons are launched, three were driven south-west at 547 yards and one towards the sea at 65 yards.

_Saturday, 8th, 10 o’clock._—Sky overcast, wind slight and uncertain, with tendency to turn S.E. Thermometer 7° (44·6 Fahr.).

Afternoon, S.E. wind at 1,093 yards; on land wind still, or slightly to the north.

At nine o’clock in the evening the upper wind is still S. Let us hope that it will descend and that, at last, our plans may be realized.

_Sunday, August 9th._—Morning, S. wind slight; afternoon, dead calm; hardly any need to say every one is weary. Ekholm declares that the balloon is losing about 66 lbs. per day; he thinks it able to stand a voyage of from forty to fifty days’ duration. But under the circumstances it is really very little; yet the envelope is solid and well finished.

_Monday, August 10th._—Balloon very full although no gas was let in since last Friday (sixty-five yards). Temperature somewhat higher. S. wind, very slight, barometer at a standstill.

_4 o’clock p.m._—Wind on land, nil.

A pilot balloon launched at 2 o’clock. Rose to 109 yards; direction N. Speed from thirteen to fourteen feet per second. Evening, 7 p.m., S. wind, pretty strong in the upper regions.

Then a complete change, the north wind prevailing.

What, then, are we going to fail at the last moment?

Must we pack up this balloon, ready to take her flight to a land around which so many vain efforts have been made for centuries past?

“My kingdom for a horse!” cried Richard III., in one of those struggles in which the human wretch thinks he acquires so much glory by massacring his fellow-man and by spreading death in his path. And what would not the three hardy explorers have given for a breath of favourable wind, which would have enabled them to carry on the struggle they had commenced against the unknown!

What bitter reflections came into my mind!

In a smiling country, where everything bespeaks work and prosperity, where each one trusts to the future, happy in the labours undertaken, happy in his daily tasks, suddenly there arises this very wind so much longed for here, and in a few minutes the tempest in its blind fury has sown death and ruin where life and wealth were working together!

Here science stood in need of a little of this destructive wind, of ever so little, but none came.

And possibly, further away, ships were being wrecked and lives destroyed by it.

Oh, for a balloon that could be steered! Why have we not one here?

_Friday, August 14th (19th day of inflation), 7 a.m._—The lieutenant has just informed us that a south wind is blowing; in fact it is pretty strong. The gas apparatus is set to work to complete the inflation.

The snow is falling gently, but it melts quickly. At nine o’clock Andrée launches a small balloon which takes a northerly course at an elevation of forty to fifty yards, but it immediately turns off to the east as it rises, _then the wind turns due west and we cease to hope_.

Our joy was of short duration. Besides, the season is now too far advanced to attempt such a voyage. It is winter.

XI

The _Fram_

At half-past nine the ice-pilot signalled a three-master off the eastern cape of the Isle of Amsterdam.

Great excitement prevails on board the _Virgo_. What object has this vessel in coming to these regions visited only by whalers and tourists? She stops and hoists the Norwegian flag on her main mast. One cry went up from all hearts: “Nansen! Nansen coming back from the Pole.”

Those who had seen the photo of the ship _Fram_, recognise her perfectly well in the steamer which is lying at a distance of 2½ miles from us.

The snow is falling fine and thick. The captain and Andrée, Ekholm and Strindberg, are leaving in a steam launch to receive their valiant compatriots. When a few fathoms from the _Fram_, Andrée and his companions raise a vigorous cheer in honour of Nansen, but the faces of the sailors on board are saddened with a painful expression. Nansen is not with them. On the 14th of March, 1895, he left them at 84° lat., accompanied by the young lieutenant, Johannsen, taking with him sledges, twenty-eight dogs, and provisions for 120 days. He directed his steps towards the North Pole in the hope of returning by way of Franz-Josef land, where the Jackson Expedition was to winter.

After the exchange of greetings of welcome and when the emotion of the first moment had subsided, the members of the two expeditions indulged in a friendly conversation, happy and surprised at the same time to meet again in the glacial Arctic Ocean, free at last.

The _Fram_, which only a day before was packed in the ice at 81°, heard of our presence from a whaler; as soon as she was in open water she made for Dansk-Gatt in the hope of getting news of Nansen.

Captain Sverdrup, Lieutenant Hansen, the doctor and five other members of the crew, take their places in the launch. The remaining three men stay on board, while the small party are coming to visit our quarters and the balloon, which is waiting in the shed.

It is easy to imagine how greatly these brave men are astonished.

Then the expedition comes on board the _Virgo_ where champagne soon foams in glasses. It is a pleasure to look at these brave sailors who, after three years and two months passed amidst the polar ice, are so happy to find themselves in the company of their “brothers in arms, and companions in peril.”

I am proud to be one of the first to greet the _Fram_ on her return to these distant regions. I had the good fortune to converse at some length with Lieutenant Hansen, who speaks French fairly well. He is an amiable man, of about thirty years of age, a little over medium height, dark, with bright eyes and intelligent forehead, and pleasing manner.

He put numerous questions to me concerning the events which had taken place in Europe during the last three years. I informed him of the death of Alexander III., of the assassination of President Carnot, etc., and I spoke to him also of new discoveries and inventions: cinematographe, X-rays, etc., etc.

All this seemed to greatly interest him. Then in a few words he told me the extremely touching story of the _Fram’s_ voyage.

Andrée made a speech and proposed a toast to Nansen and his gallant companions. The captain and the lieutenant replied in a few vigorous and moving words, and I felt myself struck with admiration for these brave men who have carried the European colours to the 86th degree of latitude.

They are happy to see their country and their homes again, but they are calm and patient as becomes true heroes. The lieutenant has a _fiancée_ awaiting him, Andrée hands him a letter, only just arrived, from his mother. He also hands Captain Sverdrup a letter addressed to Nansen, and bearing the inscription, “The North Pole.”

The _Fram’s_ library contains the _Five Weeks in a Balloon_, by Jules Verne, and the crew had often dreamt of the possibility of a balloon expedition coming to their relief. The dream was very near reality. In life everything is unforeseen, yet everything happens. If the polar balloon had started a few days ago it would have surely noticed the _Fram_ on its way. “Man proposes and God disposes.”

It is painful to think that we shall have to take the aerostatic material back to Sweden and wait.

Disappointment for Andrée’s polar expedition: joy and triumph for the Nansen expedition if their commander returns soon.

Andrée places in the captain’s button-hole a sweet-scented rose, “La France,” a rare flower in Spitzbergen, and offers him a box of excellent cigars, a present which is greatly appreciated by our genial guests. Then the launch takes them back to their vessel amidst the hurrahs of the crew of the _Virgo_.

At five p.m., in a fine chilling snow, we pay our visit to the _Fram_ and take photos of her.

When we are near the ship about twenty Siberian dogs, ranged in her bow, receive us with loud barks, but soon they recognise that we are friends and their bark is rather one of joy than any indication of hostility. They are all pleased at our caresses. Captain Sverdrup does the honours of his ship, which, if she has not the refined elegance of the _Erline Jarl_, yet inspires confidence by her sturdy appearance. She is the traditional Norwegian ship, with wooden hull well strengthened, her masts and her bulwarks roughly cut; in the bow the upturned boats, placed on frames, form a kind of shelter under which are suspended a couple of dozen bears’ hams, partly cured and dried; birds freshly killed for eating, casks and articles of every description, winch, anchors, cables, etc. In the stern the tiller is placed in a square hole made in the hull of the ship. On one side a spare tiller consisting of a massive piece of wood; compass, instruments, and the necessary rigging.

I stop at the observation post where the lieutenant tells us about his work and shows us the charts of the voyage; then we descend into the cabins, passing near the kitchen from which proceeds a very agreeable odour.

Traversing about ten steps of a very dark staircase, I find myself in the saloon, which has a hexagonal shape not devoid of originality. A lamp, with a reflector, fixed on the central pillar, emits a vague light to which my eyes accustom themselves with difficulty.

The wainscotting is of a primitive style of decoration, painted white, picked out with bright colours, in which red and green predominate. There is a very comfortable sofa in the background, placed opposite a table, at which the crew take their meals. The walls are adorned with several pictures, one of which is an illustration of a Norwegian legend: three princes, who have metamorphosed themselves into white bears in order to win the hearts of three coy princesses whose hair seems to be flying heavenwards. The bears, good princes as they are, are licking their feet. Another picture is the portrait in crayons of Mrs. Nansen and her child. The saloon is heated by a stove, which keeps it at an even temperature of 15 to 16 degrees. Air and light are admitted by a glazed skylight running across the stern deck.

On the left there is an automatic harmonium with a keyboard, to amuse the crew on dull days. One of our hosts, the engineer, improvised several tunes for us; it is wonderfully original, and if it were not for the respect due to Nansen, we would have invited the fair Charlotte, the stewardess with whom the reader is already acquainted, to have a dance, as the ladies were with us.

For more than three years woman had not entered Nansen’s ark, and the crew were demonstratively gallant. The cabins of the crew are situated around the saloon whence they receive their supply of air, having no other communication with the outside; they are lighted by lamps fixed on the walls. The cabins of the captain, lieutenant and doctor, with their maps, instruments, arms, and different other objects, are very interesting: photographs and hundreds of weird objects constitute a droll _ensemble_.

In every cabin there is a portrait of the loved one.

The captain showed us the chart of the _Fram’s_ voyage as made out by the observations; and after that a collection of very curious photographs representing the life and the stirring wanderings of the crew since their departure in 1893. The vessel in the midst of the ice, their winter quarters, the encampment, the glaciers, the icebergs, the observations, the mirage, the aurora borealis, the _Fram_ buried under the ice which almost annihilated her, the crew working fifteen days with pickaxes to clear away the ice, the sledges, the dogs, the windmill at the mizzen mast for driving the electric dynamo, the moonlight, Nansen’s departure, etc., are so many pictures which one cannot look at without heartfelt emotion, and which leave far behind everything written or pictured by Jules Verne in _Captain Hatteras_.

We leave the _Fram_ at nine p.m. after hearty farewells.

During the night the Nansen expedition peacefully took its course to the south. They have still on board provisions and coal for three years.

_Sunday, August 16th._—The snow ceased falling, and the sun who does not renounce his rights, comes for an instant to restore another glimmer of hope; the wind, although mild, vacillates and appears to tend northwards. Another disappointment.

At last, on _Monday, August 17th_, after twenty-one days of waiting in feverish anxiety, Andrée resigns himself to open the valves of the balloon, which is quite full; and it is with regret, easily understood, that I watch the escape of 17,658 cubic feet of gas, to produce which gave us so much labour.

The folding and packing are not easy work. And then, as the case of the balloon had been destroyed, it was necessary to improvise one and take the whole material back on board the _Virgo_. The planks of the shed, except those of the second storey, required for the stability of the edifice, have been removed. The gas apparatus is covered over, and all the delicate or fragile parts are shipped on board.

_Thursday, August 20th._—The _Virgo_ is loaded. The morning was spent in solidly tying up all objects which might be shifted by rolling. Andrée is working in the shed up to the last moment; he is tying down the boards, shrouding the frames; he has the half of the floor carried off so that the wind may sweep away the snow. Then he leaves, fixed to a post, a framed placard stating the ownership and the object of the shed, which he commends to the care of the few fishermen who are still in the islands of the North.

Finally, after lunch, at four o’clock, the _Virgo_ weighs anchor. We take a last photograph, and a last look at Dane’s Island, which soon disappears in the fog. The expedition is at an end.

XII

The Storm

The barometer has undergone a rapid depression since last night. Hardly had we rounded Amsterdam Island, taking a south-west course, when the vessel began to roll, and a few moments later the storm struck us. The sky darkened and the _Virgo_ lurched terribly. I was again a prey to terrible sea-sickness and retired to my cabin. All the kitchen utensils and earthenware vessels are dancing a jig round me. The _Virgo_ which has lost some of her ballast is rolling frightfully. The captain has had a small jib placed at the bow which lessens the rolling.

The wind is raging and furious waves are sweeping the deck. Only a few of the crew have escaped sickness, and in the evening the dining-room is empty.

Every two hours the ship is stopped and Professor Arrhénius takes samples of water at various depths; when the engine stops the rolling is still worse. We are overtaken by a snowstorm and darkness is complete. After twenty-four hours on a south-westerly course, which is taking us away from Tromsö, the _Virgo_ returns south-east, and the storm begins to subside. We see ships at a distance, and the temperature rises as we draw nearer to Norway.

It was on the 22nd that we passed near Beren Island, which was hidden by the fog. A number of birds surrounded our ship which is again sailing fast.

XIII

My last Night on the _Virgo_

The storm has blown over. I recovered my appetite and my good humour, and the night of the 23rd-24th was a very pleasant one.

For some time past I had seen no darkness, and this night was not without poetic surroundings.

A few stars are already twinkling in the zenith, when at about ten o’clock the sun disappeared from the horizon leaving a long twilight which lasted until dawn.

The sky was tinted with purple hues forming an immense rainbow, stretching from west to east. Grey clouds of the weirdest forms travelled through space, and lent animation to a view which it would be difficult to paint. The full moon, which appeared as the sun set, shone brightly, casting her white light on the silvery waves. The disc was extremely large, and the outlines of the land were shown very distinctly.

Alone on the bridge, I gave myself up to my dreams. The temperature having perceptibly risen, I experienced the greatest comfort in sailing thus in the direction of the land. My companions were hardly able to rouse me from my contemplation and induce me to go down and play cards in the dining-room, where a lamp was lit for the first time. The sea was as calm as a lake, and navigation was a pleasure in this calm after the storms we have endured.

_August 24th._—It is dawn, the moon is waning and the day-star resumes possession of the scene. Birds still accompany us and whirl round the _Virgo_, the black smoke of which unrolls itself like a plume of feathers.

We are approaching the Norwegian coast, and can see the cliffs. Vessels and craft of every description are moving to and fro. We are coming back to life; we feel that we are returning to civilization. The breakfast at nine o’clock is very animated. The weather is warm, and we are all preparing to make our entrance into Tromsö.

At eleven o’clock we are at last in sight of the town, and by noon the _Virgo_ is berthed in the port opposite the _Fram_, which we had met at Dansk-Gatt on the 14th of August.

XIV

The Return

We are at once surrounded by friends, and learn with pleasure that Nansen is a guest on board the small white yacht _Otaria_, anchored near the _Fram_, which she brought in tow from Hammerfest.

I much regret not being able to shake hands with him, but I am leaving my companions after sincere and heartfelt farewells to take my passage on the mail boat _Haakon Jarl_, which is leaving in a few minutes. Dr. Ekelund accompanies me to Trondhjem. One of the officers on board hands me letters and papers from France. Now, then, I am going to have a foretaste of the pleasure of again seeing those dear to me; I already feel that they are near me.

The _Haakon Jarl_ is a superb steamer, conducting the mail service along the coasts of Norway, where railways are unknown.

Navigation through the fjords is full of charms and surprises. The landscape is of the most varied description: at one time tall rocks, snow-capped like the mountains of Spitzbergen; at another, green wooded hills, fertile prairies with large herds of cattle grazing, and arable land in all its luxuriance. Little hamlets on the mountain sides, villages, châlets nestling mid fir trees and beeches suggest the picturesque scenery of Switzerland.

The vessel threads her way through the islands, and touches at all the stations on her route.

The plaintive sound of the siren re-echoes from the mountains, announces her arrival, and small vessels surround the steamer to receive and deliver dispatches, to take off passengers and their luggage, and then to make for their various destinations.

The fore-deck is one mass of cases, heaps of bricks, casks, bales, bark, and articles of every description. With the exception of a few tardy tourists going from Tromsö to Trondhjem, as it is already late in the season, passengers seem to change at every station. In some places the banks on either side are quite near, and it requires all the skill of the captain to make his way between the beacons, and avoid the numerous rocks scattered along the course. During the winter the passage is lighted by the lighthouse, but just now the nights are short, and there is very little darkness. We pass a great many vessels going through the Loffoden Islands.

Meals are served in a sumptuous saloon, and the traditional amateur concert takes place after dinner. The evening is spent in smoking cigars on deck, where Nature is the leading feature on the programme. The scene is as full of variety as of surprises.

First the sun, whose immense scarlet disc sinks slowly into the wave, leaving in its track a fiery horizon. The whole sky is coloured with tints running the gamut from violet to light grey. Clouds assume fantastic forms, merge into one another, transform their outlines, then disappear; then the pale moon appears, and its silvery glimmer is reflected on the waters.

I stand for hours together in an ecstasy of admiration before these changing pictures, so little known to Parisians. A few stars are shining in the firmament; the air is pure, the night calm, and the atmosphere pleasant.

I can breathe freely and enjoy life. The light breeze, which brings us the perfumes from the pine woods, is barely enough to stir the surface of the sea. In the wake of the ship is a long phosphorescent track. Every turn of the propeller brings me nearer to my country, the main object of my thoughts.

The _Haakon Jarl_ stayed a few hours at Bodo, a small Scandinavian town, beginning to show traces of civilization. Doctor Ekelund and I landed. We were pleased to find some newspapers, in which a meeting of Andrée and Nansen at Tromsö was referred to, also the Polar voyage chart of the celebrated Norwegian explorer. We afterwards attended an open-air concert given by a family of German artists.

During our passage to Torghatten, a small troupe of the Salvation Army came on board, and amused us a good deal with some of their musical performances, and their devout, though rather extravagant, practices.

The captain, a respectable lady, with her head concealed at the farther end of a huge poke-bonnet, which would not be out of place at Madame Tussaud’s, was gravely seated in a rocking-chair, and presided over the spiritual concert given by the members of the congregation. The devout musicians, leaning against a heap of dried cod-fish, sang in more or less plaintive tunes the praises of the Lord, who doubtless understands all languages. For my part, I did not understand a single word of these hymns, but I could judge by the faces of the audience that the music, which _emollit mores_, did not convince them. It was a wonder we did not throw them some small change; we expected that one of the pleasant company would go round, hat in hand, to make a collection for the expenses of the institution, or for any other more prosaic purpose.

A pretty young girl, of sixteen or seventeen years of age, with her hair arranged after the fashion of Miss Helyett (doubtless the captain’s niece), followed in a book, though with a distracted sort of devotion, the songs of the Salvation Army.

However, the amusements on board were not very numerous, and this was the chief item, as far as I was concerned, in the passage from Tromsö to Trondhjem, where the main body of the army awaited their brethren, who were coming from the North to gain souls for Paradise.

_Thursday, August 27th._—About four p.m. the town of Trondhjem appeared to be south-east. This is the haven so long wished for, although I have no right to complain of this latter portion of my voyage, during which no one suffered from the rolling of the vessel. The largest northern town in Norway, where the houses and buildings are made entirely of wood, has really an original appearance, and I sincerely regretted that I could not make a longer stay; but a few hours afterwards I left my amiable guide, Dr. Ekelund, and took a quick train on the single-line railway which was to carry me, within seventeen hours, over the 310 miles that divided me from Christiania.

The train started with some difficulty, and could only ascend the first incline with the aid of a locomotive coupled on behind. At last it proceeded at its normal rate of speed; the line was so bad that my carriage was shaken terribly. The pinewood structures seemed extremely fragile, and the bridges thrown over the lakes and streams made one giddy.

After our two months stay at Spitzbergen, where the vegetable kingdom is represented by moss and lichen, it was pleasant to come back to verdure, trees and flowers. Here Nature is displayed in all her splendour, and I should never tire of admiring the marvellous landscapes, the châlets, the torrents and the waterfalls which all contribute to the grandeur of Norwegian scenery.

The farmers gathering in the harvest, the wood-cutters cutting down trees which they send down from the top of the mountain by the river, which conveys them to a port where they will be received and either sent to a saw-mill or shipped on board a trading vessel—all here is life and movement. What a contrast to the frozen solitudes of Spitzbergen! Hamar is the terminus of the narrow railway. Here we entered the elegant carriages that cross to Elsinore; and lastly, a few hours later, we neared Christiania and descended at full speed such a steep incline that at each moment we asked ourselves with terror where we should go if the brakes failed to act.

On getting out at Christiania, we found ourselves in the midst of civilization. At the station I was assailed by an army of touts, from whom I only escaped by taking refuge in the fly from the Grand Hotel, where French is spoken, and where I found a degree of comfort to which I had become unaccustomed—the refined luxury of great cities. At breakfast I listened to a concert that would not have been out of place on our _grands boulevards_. I visited the town, which is very interesting, and made purchases of furs and articles of which Norway has the monopoly, various knick-knacks and little trifles that afterwards serve to remind us of our wanderings. I stayed two hours in Copenhagen, and at last on Sunday the 30th of August I embarked, at dawn, at the mouth of the canal at Kiel, on board the mail-boat _Skiruer_, on which I made my last passage. All the passengers on the boat were on deck to see the German fleet which was drawn up at this station. Twenty ironclads, a great many despatch-boats and torpedo-boats lying at the entrance of the canal excited great curiosity; moreover the spectacle was new to me as well as to most of the passengers, and it is not one that can be seen every day.

At last I arrived at Hamburg and came on to Paris, passing through Cologne and Liège.

The polar balloon was returned to me a little while after, to be kept until the time when M. Andrée should start on his expedition.

By my advice, Andrée agreed that I should increase the volume of his balloon as much as possible by adding to its equator two zones of silk of treble thickness, thus bringing the cubic measurement of the balloon to about 176,582 feet. The result of this addition was an increase in the ascending power of nearly 650 lbs., which is not to be despised.

The outer envelope was then re-varnished inside and out, and, the repairing being completed, the balloon was sent off towards the end of April, 1897, to Gothenburg to be shipped on board the _Svensksund_.

Andrée’s new companions, M. Fraenkel, acting member, and M. Svedenborg, assistant, came to Paris in the spring[1] to go through a course of balloon practice. They made a series of ascents for practice from the aerostatic park at Vaugirard in the “Nobel” and the “Fram,” under the direction of Messrs. Machuron, Lair and myself.

Notwithstanding my desire to revisit the polar regions, I gave up my place to my nephew and collaborator, who, more fortunate than myself, witnessed the departure of the balloon.

Awaiting the return of the courageous explorers, I conclude the account of this voyage which will constitute an epoch in my life and will leave behind it ineffaceable memories.

HENRI LACHAMBRE.

PARIS, _October 14th, 1897_.

[1] As Strindberg did last year.

SECOND PART

I

Departure of the Second Expedition

On the 18th of May the town of Gothenburg prepared to witness the second departure of the Polar Expedition. On the quays of the port the inhabitants assembled in crowds testified to Andrée their admiration for his ever memorable undertaking.

The rebuffs he experienced last year had not shaken his faith; he still stood firm, and was still the same, with his eagle eye and his iron will.

Notwithstanding his modesty, Andrée could not help being moved by the enthusiastic manifestations that were showered upon him. His perseverance disarmed the most sceptical. The good wishes of everybody followed him and his companions. People at last understood that this innovator is a man.

At six p.m. the _Svensksund_, which had no other decoration than the national flag, weighed anchor amidst the tumultuous acclamations of the public. Most of the ships were decorated with flags and saluted the _Svensksund_ as she passed them.

We rapidly left them behind.

As was the case last year, a number of vessels laden to the water’s edge crowded round the port. Some filled with friends and relations of the explorers accompanied us as far as the open sea, where the last adieux were said. One boat came alongside and took the telegrams which we wished to send to our families and friends.

Soon the shores of Sweden, gilded by the rays of a beautiful sunset, gradually disappeared from the horizon, and we were steaming along on the open sea at full speed.

The _Svensksund_ is a Swedish gun-boat of 300 tons, solidly built, which in winter renders great service to merchant vessels by cutting passages through the ice, with which the port of Gothenburg is blocked during the period of frost.

This boat, which is manned by picked men, and admirably suited for cruising in the Arctic regions, has been graciously placed at the disposal of the Andrée Expedition by His Majesty the King of Sweden.

On board were all kinds of valuable articles, scientific instruments and the aerostatic apparatus; the balloon was placed in the best ventilated position, and will be able to make the voyage without the least danger. If our vessel is strongly built and calculated to resist the pressure of ice, its flat form is less suited to the open sea, and causes considerable rolling. I soon felt the first symptoms of sea-sickness, and retired to my cabin where I remained until the following evening. On the 20th of May I woke up relieved, although my brain was still somewhat clouded, but this feeling was soon dissipated on the deck by a fresh breeze and a bright sun. We were in sight of the Norwegian coast; and we soon entered the fjords where the voyage became more enjoyable between the high mountains that fringe the two opposite shores. Very little vegetation; moreover the snow still covered all the more elevated parts and those that do not catch the rays of the sun; spring was just commencing at this latitude.

Along the shore are scattered a few habitations, generally low and surrounded sparsely by shrubs which were just beginning to put forth their first green leaves.

At noon we arrived at Bergen, an important Norwegian port, which is advantageously situated, the vegetation being much more advanced here than in the districts we had been passing through. Here the banks were green and beautifully tinted; the background consisting of snow-covered mountains, which reflect a dazzling light.

We left Bergen at two o’clock, after having engaged a pilot to steer us through the fjords.

The sky was clear, the sea calm and still; moreover, here, the wind has no sweep, and there is no fear of storms. We saw on all sides birds and wild ducks of various species, and occasionally dolphins showed themselves disporting in the water.

Suddenly the scene was changed.

We passed into a fog, which was slight at first, but gradually became denser and denser; we had to slacken speed, and at four o’clock were obliged to stop, the course becoming dangerous amidst the numerous islets and reefs with which the fjords are studded.

The captain anchored his vessel for the night in a little bay sheltered by high and precipitous mountains (latitude 60° 48´, longitude East of Greenwich 4° 48´ 30´´). This delay enabled us to attend a grand dinner given by the officers of the vessel, Captain C. A. Ehrensvärd, Lieutenants G. Norselius and G. Celsing, and Dr. J. Chr. Lembke, to welcome the members of the expedition, M. S. A. Andrée, engineer, and head of the expedition; Messrs. Nils Strindberg, of the University of Stockholm, and Knut Fraenkel, civil engineer, the companions of Andrée; Lieutenant Svedenborg, assistant; and the engineer, Stake, to whom is entrusted the erection and management of the gas apparatus. M. Fraenkel, in the name of his mother, who conceived the idea of this delicate attention, presented each member of the expedition with a souvenir. This was a silver napkin ring, bearing on one side, in Swedish, SOUVENIR OF THE POLAR EXPEDITION, 1897, and on the other, engraved in a shield, the name of the recipient.

The dinner, which was extremely well arranged, did credit to Lieutenant Celsing, the steward of the ship; we had set before us the best of claret and champagne, the greater part of which was supplied from presents sent to the expedition.

Captain Ehrensvärd, in the name of all the officers, wished us welcome, and enthusiastic toasts were drunk in honour of Andrée and his companions, and also to the success of their undertaking. The members of the expedition were toasted, those engaged to be married in particular; these last toasts concerned Strindberg and myself more especially.

Andrée read several telegrams received at the time of the departure from Gothenburg, which contained the last expressions of sympathy from distant friends.

The dinner went on amidst great gaiety. I felt delighted with the very cordial attitude of my neighbours, who spoke French, as far as their acquaintance with our language permitted, so as to enable me to join in their conversation and follow what they said as far as possible.

Notwithstanding the fog that surrounded us it was still daylight at 11 p.m. After having partaken on the bridge of the traditional Swedish punch, we all retired for the night.

The next morning, May 21st, as the fog had not lifted, the captain gave the order to leave the fjords and continue the voyage in the open sea. Slowly we quitted our haven, the last narrow creek was cleared, and we were soon scudding northwards at full speed, some miles from the shore.

On May 22nd we returned to the route through the fjords, which were now free from fog. We sighted Aalesund, an important fishing port. On the outskirts of the port we saw on the beach several large square surfaces, of a whitish colour, symmetrically arranged in wooden frames. These we found were quantities of salted cod being dried in the open air. This industry constitutes one of the greatest resources of the inhabitants of these regions, who export the fish in large quantities to all parts of Europe.

In the evening we proceeded on our course in company with a Norwegian mail-boat, which saluted the _Svensksund_ several times. The passengers cheered Andrée lustily, thus testifying their interest in the expedition.

Next day, at one o’clock, we passed Brono, a little Norwegian port (latitude 65° 28´). At this point the passage between the two shores is very narrow, and much care is required to avoid striking against the rocks, that can be seen under the water; happily we had nothing to fear with our officers, who acted with consummate skill.

_May 24th._—A splendid morning, but in these parts snow must have fallen the night before, for the banks were quite covered. The vegetation was not so advanced here as in the districts we had passed, and there were fewer trees.

We crossed the limit of the Arctic circle, and the event was celebrated by drinking champagne. In the evening the sky became overcast, and a fine, light rain began to fall; later on, at a few hours’ journey from Tromsö, we had some heavy falls of snow, followed by gleams of sunshine, which reminded me of our snowstorms in France. But on entering the port of Tromsö there was a blinding fall of snow, and the _Svensksund_ had to grope its way in, as it was impossible to see our course. At last, at 11 p.m., we cast anchor, and received a visit from the harbour-master, who brought us a voluminous packet of letters, telegrams, and newspapers. I received news from France that gave me great pleasure. This was the last port at which we should touch, as we were then going direct to Spitzbergen, where we should receive no communications for several weeks.

_May 25th._—The snow-fall continues. The inhabitants of Tromsö declared that it was a favourable omen for Andrée, and augured well for his success, for at the time of Nansen’s visit, in 1893, a great deal of snow fell, which was a rare occurrence at that time of the year.

We went through the town, and much admired a number of little villas surrounded by clusters of trees, which reminded us of the sunny slopes of Meudon.

The town was very lively and very busy. Ladies and young girls, most elegantly dressed, were walking about the streets, and also fishermen, sailors, etc. We even met a cyclist. Where shall we find the limit of the bicycle? I was astonished to see one in a country that has no practicable roads and very few fine days.

Below, on the sea, were docks built on piles; a little port where about fifty fishing boats were lying. Further out was a mail-boat arriving from Trondhjem.

We visited the Museum, which contains all kinds of animals and birds belonging to the polar regions, teams of reindeer, Esquimaux huts, arms, and fishing tackle of the most remote periods. All the houses in Tromsö are built of wood, and one wonders what would be left of the town if a fire should ever break out. Every year tribes of Laplanders come from the North to exchange goods with the traders; they bring chiefly skins of reindeer, foxes, wolves, and white bears, and many articles made of bone and reindeer’s horns, which are always carved with representations of polar animals.

Later on, on July 2nd, on our return from Spitzbergen, we had the opportunity of visiting, at a few leagues from Tromsö, an encampment of these interesting nomads.

The excursion was organized and directed by our friend, Lieutenant Norselius. The party consisted of Dr. Lembke, Lieutenant Svedenborg, the engineer, Stake, and myself. Herr Aagaard, the brother of the Consul of Tromsö, was kind enough to accompany us. As he knew a few words of the Lapp language, he offered to act as interpreter. Some of the crew went with us.

I will not dwell here on the customs of these people, as they have already been described in several works. The Laplanders are very friendly and peaceably inclined towards strangers.

In our honour they collected their reindeer together, a herd of 400 to 500, which were feeding on a mountain in the distance. A chief, who was provided with a little telescope, used it skilfully to follow the movements of this great herd, which was driven by only two children and a few dogs. We saw these animals on a distant slope, all collected together, and advancing towards us like a swarm of ants in motion. A hill hid them from us for about half an hour; they then reappeared at a distance of a few hundred yards, in the midst of a few scattered shrubs. The herd approached; their horns, which are very large, kept interlacing, freeing themselves, and then becoming entangled with the shrubs which were shaken by the compact and moving mass. It seemed like a moving forest. A fenced enclosure is set apart for the animals. When they had to be driven into their pen, a Laplander approached the head of the herd, caught one of the reindeer with the aid of a lasso, which he used as skilfully as the hunters of the Pampas, and then pulled it in, ringing a bell.

The effect was then most curious. The attention of the rest of the herd was attracted to the captive which they followed at a distance, step by step, hesitating, and advancing as if under the influence of some peculiar fascination. The whole herd was thus enticed into the enclosure, the outlet of which was then shut.

The captive reindeer which led the others in was then released, and great excitement seemed to prevail amongst all the animals. About a dozen of them got on to a little mound in the middle of the enclosure, and remained there the prisoners of the others who kept walking round them. This performance lasted for more than half an hour. In the meantime some of the Laplanders, armed with lassos, caught some of the does in order to milk them, and the whole herd was then set at liberty. The reindeer dispersed into the thickets, quickly climbed the mountain, and soon disappeared from view. We bought a few trifles from these people, who are very honest in their dealings, and at the same time very business-like. They lose no opportunity of doing a stroke of business; they even demanded payment if they were photographed, and if this was refused, they tried to screen themselves from our cameras. The instantaneous process dismayed them very much.

After having left the camp of the Laplanders, on our return to the seashore, our curiosity was attracted by an enormous whale, which had been brought to the beach to be cut up. This mammal, which was not less than 70 feet long, had been killed a few days before in the Northern Seas.

II

Arrival at Spitzbergen

_May 26th._—We were waiting in the port of Tromsö for news of the _Virgo_, which had left Gothenburg two days after us, on May 20th.

The day before, the _Svensksund_ had laid in a stock of provisions and coal. On the after-deck a large cage had been made for the reception of some sheep. We also took a great many fowls on board, so that we should be provided with fresh meat during our stay at Spitzbergen, as a change from tinned provisions.

As we had not received any news of the _Virgo_, we left Tromsö at 3 p.m. to go and meet her at an appointed place. A splendid day cheered our hearts, and most of the inhabitants of the town came running along the quays, and cheered the _Svensksund_ as she departed.

The captain then had a cask hoisted on to the top of the foremast, in which the look-out man, who had orders to give notice of any passing vessel amongst the floating ice, took up his station.

After this had been done, warm clothes were distributed amongst the crew. Each received large boots, a fur hood, gloves, etc. Our sailors seemed quite delighted with their new outfit.

At five o’clock we arrived at the appointed place, but the _Virgo_ was not there. We accordingly took shelter in a bay whilst waiting for her.

The next day, May 27th, having awoke at 3 o’clock in the morning, I went on shore with Lieutenant Svedenborg. We went hunting over the mountains, amidst boulders of rock and deep ravines. We saw very little vegetation; a few scattered bushes of prickly shrubs, putting forth a few miserable shoots; a great deal of moss and grass in the damp parts surrounding the pools formed by the melting snow. Many springs swelled the streams, which formed numerous waterfalls on their way down to the sea. We brought down several birds, but lost some eiders, for these birds, when wounded and pursued, dive to reappear no more. They hide their bodies from their foe, perishing at the bottom of the sea by entangling themselves in the seaweed.

The _Virgo_ joined us at 2 p.m. Her captain came on board for instructions. At 6 o’clock we weighed anchor, and set out for Spitzbergen. Andrée hoped that we should get there quickly, and without hindrance. The north north-east wind which had been blowing violently for some days, would, he thought, drive away the floes of ice from the coast of Greenland.

For three days we were tormented by a strong north wind, which blew a gale. The sea was very rough. I was ill, and could eat nothing for two days—a victim to sea-sickness. However, I got up in the evening of May 30th. The vibrations of the vessel were then imperceptible to me. I was surprised at first, and then pleased. I seemed to be waking from a bad dream.

Our boat rolled terribly, with sudden movements due to its flat shape—movements which were all the more frequent owing to the waves being very choppy in the northern seas. I could not, in spite of myself, help thinking of the smooth and easy motion of our transatlantic liners, where one is quite at one’s ease.

I was astonished, on arriving on deck, to see the mountains that fringe Spitzbergen, and to hear that in three hours we should reach Dansk-Gatt, a strait between Dane’s Island and the Island of Amsterdam, to the north-west of Spitzbergen, in latitude 79° 43´.

The _Virgo_ followed us at some distance; she too rolled a great deal. The wind was high and cold; some blocks of ice floated here and there, but not many. By a fortunate circumstance the Arctic Ocean was quite free. Andrée had predicted that it would be so, and he was pleased to see that he would lose no time this year. Nevertheless, those who had never visited these shores were somewhat deceived; they had expected to be encountering icebergs, and meeting with unheard-of difficulties. In fact they looked for something very different to ordinary voyages, something which would keep constantly before their minds the fact that they were in the Frozen Ocean.

Our wishes were soon granted; the prevailing north-east wind had driven the ice floes into the open sea; the ice round the coast, being sheltered by the mountains, remained, and the entrance to the Dansk-Gatt was quite blocked up.

We had to slacken our speed; the vessels could only cut a passage through, pushing before them blocks of scattered ice driven one against another, and breaking with a loud report, terrifying the various polar birds and disturbing the siesta of various seals, which quickly dive and disappear behind other floes.

I took some photographs, the success of which was doubtful, as it snowed fast. Fortunately we were quite close to Virgo Bay, and after an hour of slow, winding, and difficult progress, going round large masses of ice that could not be driven aside, we perceived the balloon shed; it was still standing! To the right was Pike House half-hidden by snow.

We each provided ourselves with a telescope or field-glass. The shed especially occupied our attention; it had suffered some damage, we noticed an alteration in it, but at that distance it was impossible to ascertain the extent of the injury.

As we slowly approached the coast, we took soundings every minute, and at last, at 6 p.m., the captain gave the order to stop. The anchors were cast, as we should probably remain there some time; only about a hundred yards separated us from the shore.

The _Virgo_, which should have followed us closely in order to profit by the passage made by the _Svensksund_, remained some distance behind; she seemed to be impeded by the ice and advanced very slowly. She pushed along for another hour before casting her anchor. Less fortunate than we were, her screw, which had neither the flexibility nor the resistance of ours, had been sorely damaged by the ice.

The various emotions produced by this eventful voyage and the keen air of Spitzbergen had sharpened all our appetites. Lieutenant Celsing ordered us a grand dinner, washed down with good wine and champagne, to celebrate our arrival at Dane’s Island. I own that, for my part, I did justice to it, after having been so severely tried by the sea.