Henri Lachambre

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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.

ON THE ICEBERGS.

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.

DANES ISLAND SEEN BY THE MIDNIGHT SUN.

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.

SHIPS AMONG THE ICE.

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.

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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 BALLOON CASE IN THE ICE.

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.

After dinner we went on shore. Our boat found a passage through the ice after much groping and winding; we at last reached the shore, which was edged with ice covered by a layer of snow, in which we sank half-way up to our knees. After a rapid glance at Pike House, which we found in good condition, we directed our steps towards the balloon shed which interested us more. The poor shed, the base of which had partly disappeared under the snow, had suffered greatly; it had been wrenched round and seemed to lean towards the east. Last year the boarding of the second floor had been left to strengthen it; several of these planks had been broken or torn away by the wind, some had been carried to some distance—we could see ends sticking up here and there in the snow.

On the western side we discovered a split in a beam where it joined the framework. It was this accident that had caused the wrenching of the roof-timbers and occasioned the greater part of the damage. However, this damage could be repaired, and AndrÉe, after his examination, expressed great satisfaction with the work of Svedberg, the builder of this frail edifice, which was not intended to withstand a winter, and must have resisted great stress of wind and weather. It is true that last year, before leaving Spitzbergen, AndrÉe had strengthened the shed as much as his resources and the materials at his disposal allowed, as has been seen by the foregoing account.

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III
Preparations at Dane’s Island

May 31st.—The day after we arrived every one set to work.

We first turned our attention to carpentering; with the aid of pulleys and screw-jacks we succeeded in restoring to a certain extent the beams of wood to the positions they had normally occupied, and they were then fixed by steel guys.

A detachment of sailors cleared away the snow, which in the shed was over six feet deep. This work was rendered long and tedious by a thick layer of ice under the snow, which had to be broken with the ice-pick; the snow was taken away in sledges.

There was a great deal to do, but our workmen were skilful and were directed by experienced masters. AndrÉe did not leave the scene of operations all day, and watched every detail attentively; in the evening he was happy to inform us that the damage would be more easily repaired than he had at first thought, and that in a fortnight the shed would be ready to receive the balloon.

June 1st.—The work was resumed and carried on diligently.

While the carpenters were busy repairing the shed, detachments of sailors proceeded to unload the materials contained in each vessel. This last operation was greatly hindered by the floating ice, which, under the action of the wind, was continually changing its position, and sometimes threatened to crush our little boats, which had to be hoisted on deck when we were not using them. Then the wind, which had been north-east, veered round to the east; it drove the ice in another direction, and seemed to be trying to send it out of our way. Every now and then came gusts of snow, but these did not stop the work.

The temperature varied from 30 Fahr. to 35·6; that of the sea-water was 28·4 Fahr.; the wind alone seemed to cut our faces.

LANDING THE CAR.

Not being able to take part in the work that was going on, I passed my time as best I could. Pike House, the description of which has already been given, was a curiosity which attracted my attention. I read the visitors’ names inscribed on its walls; amongst them I was pleased to find my uncle’s signature, and I yielded to the temptation of adding my own.

I spent the morning in transforming one of the rooms into a photographic laboratory.

The carrier pigeons of the expedition were placed in the attic which they had occupied last year.

Behind Pike House, buried under the snow, were the remains of the gas apparatus. After clearing away the snow we found that the parts had not suffered much, and that they could be used with the apparatus we had brought.

That evening, accompanied by Strindberg, Fraenkel, and Svedenborg, we set out on an excursion over the snow and ice, along the east coast. We went as far as the little Albert Island, which was still united to Dane’s Island by ice. Strindberg, who is a very good shot, succeeded in killing a seal, which we could not take with us for want of a boat; he returned to the Svensksund for a boat, but the distance was great, and the dead seal soon sank.

On returning to the vessel, we saw a fine silver fox, which was sniffing along our tracks. He was out of the reach of our bullets, and, as soon as he saw us, he ran off, greatly terrified by such unexpected visitors. He stopped from time to time to turn round and make sure that he had not been the victim of an illusion, and then went on his way more swiftly still, and escaped to the mountains.

On our return to Virgo Bay, it was difficult to reach the Svensksund; the wind, which had gone round to the north a little while before, had brought a good deal of ice. There were no longer any passages sufficiently wide to allow a boat to be steered through them; we stepped on to one mass of ice, and, by jumping from one to the other, we were able to regain the vessel.

June 2nd.—The wind had changed again from north to east. The bay had become cleared of a great portion of the ice with which it was filled a few hours before.

A little steam launch brought by the Svensksund was then able to render useful service. The unloading went on more quickly; we hastened on that of the Virgo especially, as she was to leave us directly afterwards, carrying news of us to our friends.

Strindberg was engaged in some photographic studies of the snow and ice; I spent part of the day with him developing the plates.

June 3rd.—The sky was very clear at two o’clock in the morning; there was not a cloud upon the horizon, and there was nothing to warn us that a few hours later a strong north wind would bring us violent squalls laden with snow, and at the same time bring back the ice that had been driven away from us. This bad weather somewhat hindered the work during the morning. After breakfast there was a little interlude at the expense of a seal which had gone to sleep on a block of ice. It was more than 200 yards from the ship, happily for itself, for ten guns or carbines were levelled at it from the deck, and at the word of command from the captain a volley saluted the new-comer, who immediately disappeared, having no doubt formed a bad opinion of the human race.

In the evening the captain and the first lieutenant of the Virgo came to dine with us. At this meal some bread was eaten called “French bread,” supplied to the expedition by M. Schumacher, a Stockholm baker; a large quantity of it was taken on board. This bread, sealed up hermetically in light boxes of tinned copper, was in a perfect state of preservation, although then a month old.

June 4th.—During the night we experienced a violent north-east wind, which drove the ice into our bay, quite stopping the unloading of large packages. By means of planks a road was formed on the ice, and all the light packages were carried on the men’s backs.

This violent wind, however, rendered us real service, and did a great deal towards the repairing of the shed; it quite restored to their places the roof-timbers, and they were soon fixed in their places by guys, and at the same time the planks were replaced so as to increase the solidity of the structure.

June 5th.—The weather was very fine; the thermometer showed 37·4 Fahr.

VIEW OF THE APPARATUS FOR PRODUCING HYDROGEN GAS FOR THE BALLOON.

Strindberg made the ascent of a neighbouring hill situated to the west of the place occupied by our ship. At the summit, 656 feet above the sea-level, he fixed a mast, on which was placed an apparatus for observing the direction of the wind. This ingenious instrument consists of a vane carrying with it in its movements a horizontal disc divided into eight equal sectors. On the outer circumference, at the points of division, are fixed vertically the figures from 1 to 8, cut into plates of copper. The diameter 1-5 falls in the vertical plane of the vane, and figure 5 always faces the wind. It is easy by means of a compass to determine the direction from any point from which we can read the figures of the disc. It is sufficient to observe the angle that is made with the magnetic meridian by the visual radius, going to the number facing you, and to deduce from it by a very simple calculation the angle of the line 1-5, i.e., the angle of the direction of the wind with the north. For instance, supposing we are to the east of the post of observation, and number 3 is facing us, number 5, which always faces the wind, will be at the north, the point from which the wind comes. Every day the explorers, by turns, every four hours, made meteorological observations. All the instruments were examined, and the results carefully noted. Strindberg set up a tent on the shore, where he spent several hours a day taking magnetic observations.

Work was suspended during June 6th and 7th for the Whitsuntide holidays.

Every one sought for some amusement to pass the time; some of the sailors found one, which was somewhat rough. They ascended a hill covered with snow situated behind the shed; on arriving at the summit they slid down, toboggan fashion, from a height of 656 feet, each trying to make a record speed. This game was not without its comic side; often one of the men lost his position, rolling over and over to the bottom; fortunately in the snow there was no danger.

On June 8th all the little colony went back to work; the weather was fine, with a north wind that piled up the ice round the ships. The greater number of light packages were, however, unloaded, but there was still heavy luggage which could not be moved.

On June 9th one of the gas generators was taken off, a large wooden tank lined with lead, which had to be handled with care, its own weight rendering it fragile. After it had been let down into a boat, a passage was with difficulty cut for it through the ice to the shore.

The next day other parts of the gas apparatus, no less bulky, were taken off the Virgo; the difficulties attending their unloading were still greater than before. Armed with ice-picks, some of the sailors tried to break up the smaller pieces; others, provided with saws made specially for the purpose, attacked enormous masses. The boat advanced very slowly, but this extra work involved an expenditure of precious time.

At last by the evening of that day all the parts of the gas apparatus were landed. The engineer, Stake, assisted by the mechanics, proceeded to fix it up. Before this could be done, it was necessary to clear away an enormous quantity of snow which occupied the space allotted to this installation, and which, when swept in a circle round it, formed a regular enclosure, a temporary fortification.

June 11th.—Strindberg and Fraenkel turned their attention to the carrier pigeons, and, with the aid of india-rubber wafers, fixed to the wing and tail feathers several labels bearing the following inscriptions:—

“AndrÉe.”

Aftonbladet.

“Stockholm.”

The pigeons, moreover, were numbered consecutively; their destination was the office of the Aftonbladet, and they came from a dove-cot situated at MarÉchamm, belonging to M. Uno Godenhejlm, formerly a post-master.

I gave myself up on this day to the study of a sport which is quite Scandinavian, the “ski” (snow-shoes); Strindberg kindly gave me both theoretical and practical lessons. After many tumbles on snowy slopes, my course of instruction was completed; I only needed practice. This agreeable mode of locomotion is very useful for making long journeys over the snow.

PLACING A GENERATOR.

I employed part of the day in making a fox-trap, consisting simply of a box closed on one side by a metal grating, and on the other by a sliding door. This latter would close automatically when the animal touched it, a bird fastened to the bottom of the cage serving as a bait. In the evening I tried the sledges which were to be taken in the balloon. I harnessed myself to one of them, and took my trap half a league away to the hills, where I set it so as to be able to observe it from the Svensksund, whence I could see by means of a telescope when the door of the cage was shut.

I had not long to wait; the next morning the cage was closed. I went up to the mountain, and soon perceived through the grating of the cage a cunning little head and two bright eyes, which were attentively watching all my movements.

The prisoner was a young fox; there were several species of them at Spitzbergen. We had already seen three kinds: one was a fine glossy black, another silvery white, and a third had yellow and brown spots. The little captive belonged to this last category. Seeing himself discovered, my fox darted against the grating, growling at my approach and showing his pretty little sharp teeth. With many precautions, putting my hands through the bars of the cage, I succeeded in muzzling him and in tying his paws together with cords. Having thus made it impossible for him to do any harm, I led him over the snow to Pike House, where my arrival with my prisoner at the end of a long string excited much curiosity and caused considerable mirth.

I hoped to take this young fox back to France. He was put in a cage, where he received many visits from persons interested; one of the latter not having closed the door with sufficient care, the Spitzbergen fox, in no way inferior to those of our own country in point of cunning, succeeded in opening it and recovered his liberty. He was even seen to pause ironically for a few moments in front of the balloon shed, where the changes that had been made seemed to interest him.

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IV
The Landing and Preparation of the Balloon—The Inflation

June 12th.—Two weeks had elapsed since our arrival at Dane’s Island. The work connected with the shed had been pressed forward, and as AndrÉe had announced, the shed was ready to receive the balloon. A large canvas tent, made in eight equal sections, was fixed over its entire circumference half-way up the shed; it was drawn up in the centre by the aid of pulleys connected with the top of the building. We were thus comfortably sheltered from snow or rain whilst getting the balloon ready.

The unloading of the Virgo was finished, and the ship was ready to start as soon as the ice should disperse. We went on board to drink coffee and take a parting glass of punch.

June 13th.—On Sunday we had arranged to take a trip with the steam launch, but it was impossible to leave our prison; the north wind, which had blown with more violence during the last few days, had brought us enormous blocks of ice, detached from the ice-field and from the glaciers. Strindberg and I took several photographs of the floating ice, which occupied our whole day.

The Virgo still a prisoner.

June 14th.—We could not wait any longer and lose the advantage of our hard work; the case containing the balloon had to be landed.

This enormous package, weighing no less than 4,409 lbs., was pretty easily let down from the ship on to a boat; the great difficulty was to get it on land, although the distance to be traversed scarcely exceeded a hundred and twenty yards.

The streams left between the ice were too narrow, and sometimes they were even completely blocked up.

Lieutenant Norselius, at the head of a band of picked men, directed the operations. The picks and saws did their work, widening the narrow streams into which the boat was pushed along the cleared space, until a fresh obstacle was encountered. It was a real wall of ice with which we had to deal now; ice-picks and saws were powerless to open a path. Lieutenant Norselius thought of an ingenious plan, which he at once put into execution. With the aid of a dynamite cartridge carefully laid, he succeeded in breaking into small pieces this portion of the ice-field; it was then easy to part the pieces of ice, and the boat slowly advanced, but the surrounding pieces, which had been held back by the larger mass, drew together, and the boat was caught between them and then lifted up; the case leant over on one side and threatened to fall over. Some of the sailors hung on to the other side, trying to restore its equilibrium, whilst others pulled or pushed the boat, which was still blocked up. The case was tied with cables, one end of which was connected with the ship and the other with the shore, then the whole party harnessed themselves to a third rope, trying by their united efforts to start the boat. At last we felt it move; it was a moment of anxiety for us all; then it glided unchecked over the ice into an open space, once more narrowly escaping being capsized with its burden. Happily some of the sailors had time to hang on to the end of a long pole laid across the top of the case, and with the help of the cables, equilibrium was preserved.

Our fears then dispersed, all serious obstacles were surmounted, and the rest of the work was easy. A few more hours of toil and patience, and after a whole day’s labour the balloon was at length landed.

Every one was glad to see her in safety after the dangers she has passed through. AndrÉe warmly thanked Lieutenant Norselius for the zeal and skill he had displayed in this difficult operation.

June 15th.—The balloon case, which had been left on the bank on the previous evening, had now to be conveyed to the shed erected a few yards higher up. The first part of the distance was soon covered, as the case is dragged over greased timbers laid down in the snow; the remainder of the journey was rendered difficult by the huge stones by which the route is obstructed. These difficulties, however, were as nothing compared with those of last night, and the case was soon got below the shed, and afterwards hoisted on to the flooring.

A few hours later the balloon was stretched and the folds spread out. It was in perfect condition; the apertures were closed up with discs consisting of wood, or with false valves; it was then partially inflated with air with a very simple inflator designed by AndrÉe, but the process was a very lengthy one, as the inflator was very feeble.

June 16th.—I spent the day inside the balloon, where, with the help of ten seamen, I put another coat of varnish on the seams.

The Virgo, which has been waiting four days in her prison of ice, can at last start to-day; in fact, her time is up, for she must be at TromsÖ before the 20th of June, otherwise AndrÉe will have to pay a heavy fine for every day’s delay.

It took two days to re-varnish the seams. On the 18th of June all the air in the balloon was let out so as to prepare for the inflation by gas; the net is again placed over it, and the valves inserted. The inflating tubes are brought under the floor of the shed and connected with the nozzle through an opening made in the centre of the floor. The inflation by gas began at seven on the morning of the 19th of June.

Stake, the engineer, is superintending the manufacture of the hydrogen. It is produced by the action of sulphuric acid diluted with water on iron. The acid, the strength of which is 60°, is brought in iron drums, each containing 220 lbs. We have 176,369 lbs. of it, and 66,138 lbs. would suffice to inflate the balloon.

The gas apparatus was constructed at Stockholm from well-known designs. The acid is raised, by means of a hand pump, into a mixing tank “C,” made to hold 2,817 pints, and meanwhile water is introduced which reduces the contents to a solution representing about 16°.

The acidulated compound passes thence into two lead-lined generators “G,” containing the iron, which is dropped in as required through a hopper placed half-way up, and closed with a hydraulic joint. The iron shavings put into the outside part of this hopper are pushed down, thus forcing the shavings in the inner part into the generator. Each generator is closed by a lid with a hydraulic joint. The apparatus is freed from the mud deposited at the bottom by means of a self-closing cock.

The hydrogen produced by this reaction passes into a purifier “L,” filled with coke, and provided with a tapering grate; through this grate the gas makes its way into the washing compartment, and passes through the column of coke in which is circulating the water that falls from the rose attached to the top.

The overflow runs away through a pipe at “U” at the bottom of the apparatus. A steam-pump feeds the purifier and the mixing tank with sea-water, which, by the way, is quite suitable for this process.

On leaving the purifier the hydrogen traverses a chamber “H,” from which two tubes lead to the dryers “S”; these dryers consist of rectangular boxes containing purifying materials and quicklime laid on a grating near the bottom.

Before being conveyed into the balloon the gas thus prepared passes through two testing chambers “E,” each of which contains a thermometer, a hygrometer, and some litmus-paper; glass sight-holes are provided to facilitate inspection.

Pressure gauges fixed in various positions show the pressure of the gas current.

This voluminous apparatus is capable of producing 5,297 to 7,000 cubic feet of gas per hour, but AndrÉe will not allow the output to exceed 2,118 cubic feet per hour, his object being to secure a gas which has had ample time for proper washing and purifying.

June 20th.—During the first twenty-four hours about 42,379 cubic feet of gas were generated.

AndrÉe and Fraenkel are busy to-day superintending the inflation of the balloon; the rest are preparing for a trip northwards with the steam-barge commanded by Lieutenant Norselius.

They propose reaching Red Bay, to the N.E. of Spitzbergen, near 80° parallel.

We left Virgo Bay at nine in the morning, and steered to the north along the coast of Smeerenburg. As we went along the guns brought down several birds. At one o’clock we were at Red Bay, which was one immense ice plain reaching up to the islands at the entrance to the bay. It was on one of these islands, not shown in any polar chart, that we landed and scared away a flock of eiders and a fox which was lying in ambush for them.

From our position we commanded a full view of the entire expanse of the gulf.

Here nature presents a wilder aspect than we have ever seen her under. The bay opens out towards the north.

East and west the bay is flanked with lofty mountains whose summits are lost in the fog; wide fissures afford shelter to enormous numbers of birds of various species, who build their nests at different altitudes. Some perch on the sharp edges of the rock, while others describe huge curves or shoot along after the manner of birds of prey. We noticed some wild geese, some goelands, the “king of the algÆ,” the auk, and others, all filling the air with sharp piercing cries, deafening one with their fiendish concert.

About six and a half miles to the south, and forming the background to the gulf, a gigantic glacier, indented with crevices, rises like a mighty wall. The glacier is lit by a few rays of the sun filtering through a curtain of fog, and reflects them in tints of blue.

We take a long look at this great pale-looking expanse imperceptibly gliding towards the sea, impelled by a slow and mysterious force, while from it huge ice tracts are always breaking away and crashing down with a roar that seems like an earthquake.

It would be interesting to make the tour of Red Bay, but we are short of time, and we ought to be provided with snow-shoes to carry us over the snow which covers the ice. We saw in the snow very recent footprints of bears, but we vainly searched the horizon with our glasses. Bruin was invisible.

After a frugal repast on a rock in the open air, we made ready for our return. A cold, chilling fog settled down on the sea and enveloped us for two hours. We were very anxious to get back on board the Svensksund to warm ourselves once more, for we had not brought any warm clothing.

June 21st and 22nd.—The inflation of the balloon still progressing. As it fills we re-varnish the outside seams.

Meantime, AndrÉe is preparing and fitting out the car, adjusting the suspension ring and the rope attachments. On the other hand, Strindberg, Fraenkel and Svedenborg are busy coating the guide-ropes with a compound of grease and vaseline.

To save time in the work to be done when starting, the carpenters are demolishing the upper portion of the shed on the north side, as AndrÉe thinks this useless.

V
Amusements at Spitzbergen—Testing the Gas-Tightness of the Balloon—Arrival of the Vessels Express and Lofoten

The inflation of the balloon was completed on the 22nd of June at midnight. The dome can be seen above the shed; our balloon is now only awaiting a suitable moment for launching forth into space.

Next morning two Swedish flags float triumphantly over the shed. But before a start can be made, many minor matters still remain to be attended to, small details which always take up a very long time, and to-day work was stopped at noon. In compliance with Swedish custom we have been celebrating the eve of the feast of St. John, one of the most important Scandinavian festivals.

Time hangs heavily during these days of rest. Amusements are rare, and but little varied at Spitzbergen. The sailors themselves are compelled to forego one of their favourite sports; the snow on the mountains having partly melted, has laid bare large sharp-edged stones, among which it would be dangerous to practise tobogganing. However, they have found another amusement. On the summit of a neighbouring mountain rising up almost in a peak, which they succeed in climbing, they displace enormous pieces of rock, and these roll down dragging with them an avalanche of stone, accompanied by prolonged and deafening sounds which are re-echoed, like the rolling of thunder; and thus do our sailors amuse themselves.

We are no less limited than the sailors in our choice of amusements in these deserted regions, far away from all that makes life seem worth living. We are longing for our nearest and dearest; it is now a month since we became exiles.

Absorbed by vague thoughts, my looks mechanically tend towards the open sea, hoping to descry a sail coming to call on us and bring us news from home. But the horizon is bare, except that here and there a few icebergs are floating on the waves.

All around us, mountains, barren rocks, snow, and glaciers; no vegetation to gladden our sight, nothing but a few varieties of moss bearing tiny white, violet, and yellow flowers; the yellow ones, larger than the rest, resemble very much the butter-cups, with which our meadows are dotted in spring. The flora is excessively poor in these icy regions. What a contrast to the luxuriant vegetation of Brazil, the rich and prolific nature of which country I was admiring three years ago, being then engaged on a mission on behalf of the Brazilian Military Authorities!

In order to overcome the melancholy which seems to come over me to-night, I am glad to start with Fraenkel on a boating excursion. We take some provisions with us, and at nine o’clock we set off hap-hazard, in glorious sunshine. We shoot some birds, chiefly eider-geese. Near the Albert Isle, in the Smeerenburg, a group of seals, disporting themselves on the ice, attracts our attention. It is impossible to get near them by water; we therefore alight and drag our boat up on to the ice. But the wary animals plunge under as soon as we approach. It is no use waiting for them over their holes, as the seal will travel a long way under water, in order to re-emerge some hundreds of yards away from the place where it dives. It then proceeds to make a fresh hole; with its breath alone, emitted and inhaled repeatedly, it can pierce masses of this ice, measuring at least a yard in thickness.

Not far from the place where the seals disappeared, there is an opening free from ice; we decide, at all events, to wait some minutes on the brink of this pond. Two of the seals appear, and are at once greeted by us with bullets; the water is dyed red with blood over a large expanse, but the two animals, though wounded in the head, have strength enough left to dive under the ice, there to die.

Baffled in this attempt, we return to our boat and continue our trip in the Smeerenburg in a south-easterly direction; we wish to reach the glaciers haunted by bears, but a thick fog surprises us on our way and stops our progress. We have no compass; in order to get back and avoid losing ourselves in the fog we are obliged to follow the coast-line, which considerably increases the distance to be covered. Objects are beginning to assume fantastic forms in the fog. At one part of the coast which I know perfectly well, having roamed over it several times, a rock of from sixteen to nineteen feet high appears to us a mountain of respectable dimensions; further on, the ice round the coast is about six feet above the water, and this looks to us like a colossal glacier; then we come across some eider-geese, which animals seem to assume awful dimensions, appearing to us about thirty-two feet high. Finally, becoming more and more subject to these curious effects of optical illusion, taking small blocks of ice for enormous icebergs, we imagine we can identify a walrus in a moving mass which appears to be the size of a small whale: we approach the animal, whose true nature we recognise when its size still appears to be thirteen or sixteen feet—it is a small bird of the size of a pigeon.

After several hours of a dispiriting journey made in the damp and penetrating cold, tossed to and fro by the waves, which have become very rough, while the water, lashed by a contrary wind, is constantly dashing in our faces, we arrive near Virgo Bay at the very moment when the fog commences to clear, and with it these phantasmagoric effects gradually disappear.

We feel as if we had awakened from a hideous nightmare, and are glad to see the sun once more, shedding its warm rays upon us.

We return on board the Svensksund at 6 a.m., after roaming about on the sea for nine hours, and just at the time when all on board are waking up.

We celebrate St. John’s day as far as we can under the circumstances; at night a copious dinner is served, and we are much astonished at seeing such a variety of dishes set before us, although more than a month has elapsed since we last renewed supplies; this is a surprise reserved for us by Lieut. Celsing, who acts as steward on board our craft.

June 25th.—A most pleasant awakening: a sailor puts into my hands a parcel of letters and journals—news from France. None but they who have had the experience of being separated from their nearest and dearest, far from their native land, in a dull and desolate region like Spitzbergen, can ever know the joy experienced when a chance mail unexpectedly brings news from those one holds most dear.

I eagerly scan the letters and journals before troubling myself about ascertaining the name of the vessel which brought them. I then learn that it is a little sloop, the Express, chartered at TromsÖ by three German tourists, Messrs. Th. Lerner, Dr. Fr. Violet, and G. Meisenbach, who have come to Spitzbergen for a few weeks. The small steamer has been severely tried during her passage by a storm which swept away two of her boats; she leaves to-night for the north, for Mossel Bay, where there is a “refuge” containing a store of provisions and boats intended for the shipwrecked; our tourists will find boats there to replace those they have lost.

June 26th.—Stake, the engineer, spent yesterday in preparing wide strips of light material which, after being impregnated with acetate of lead, are blackened at those parts which come in contact with the sulphuretted hydrogen gas.

Placed on the seams of the balloon, these strips enabled us to perceive the slightest traces of an escape of gas. But the practical application of this method was difficult and required some care. For getting on to the balloon, the extremities of a horizontal cable crossing the shed transversely were fixed to the two highest poles at the top; a pulley supporting a double rope was passed over the cable; we placed one leg on the loop and slid through space to the balloon. When we wished to return, two men drew back the pulley by means of a pulley-tackle. Some sailors found it a quicker and more satisfactory plan to descend by the meshes of the net.

Eight and sometimes ten of us were at work on the dome of the inflated balloon, and we had to perform compulsory gymnastic feats in order to support ourselves amidst the cordage of the net.

The sailors, being accustomed to this kind of exercise, climbed about the balloon quite at their ease; but I must confess that at first I had a slight feeling of dizziness; this, however, soon passed off.

It was a curious sight to see so many men on this silken envelope, which is the only barrier to the gas. The fact is unprecedented in the history of balloons.

If the work that we were engaged upon was long and difficult, the result was no less satisfactory. We found in this manner some very slight escapes of gas, which were at once carefully stopped.

June 27th, Sunday.—We received a visit from a Norwegian vessel, the Lofoten, commanded by Captain Sverdrup, ex-captain of the Fram, who accompanied Dr. Nansen on his recent expedition to the Polar regions.

Among the passengers on board this vessel were Mr. Stadling, one of the members of the AndrÉe expedition last year, and already known to the reader. He will remain with us henceforth, but there being no room on board the Svensksund, Stadling will take up his residence at Pike House.

The little sloop Express was returning from its voyage northwards to Mossel Bay; three steamers had met in Virgo Bay, and gave the place an aspect of cheerfulness and animation rarely observed there.

The Lofoten, which had started from Hammerfest on the 23rd of June, brought us some letters and papers. Unhappily some of the Swedish journals contained the sad news of the death of Baron Dickson, the generous MÆcenas of M. AndrÉe, who, on the eve of our departure from Gothenburg, invited all the members of the expedition, and was most profuse in his words of encouragement to the bold explorers.

We take this opportunity of testifying our respect for the great man, the philanthropist, the savant, snatched away from his friends before he had seen the achievement of the grand work with which he had associated his name.

Let us offer to his memory the tribute of our respectful admiration and gratitude.

VI
The Last Preparations—Anticipations

June 28th.—The balloon had now been inflated for more than five days; it had undergone a loss of gas which may be approximately estimated at 5,297 to 5,956 cubic feet, or a mean loss of 1,059 to 1,236 cubic feet every twenty-four hours. When the tests which we were making, and which were to be continued as far as the equator of the balloon, should be concluded, it would have become still more air-tight, and the balloon would then be in excellent condition.

The Lofoten left us this morning at six o’clock, firing off four salutes from her guns, and with reiterated cheering. From the top of the balloon I watched the evolutions of the graceful vessel as she described a parabola round the Svensksund; her flags were raised and lowered, and then the Lofoten rapidly glided away.

The work of looking for escapes was concluded on this day.

The cover for protecting the balloon from snow and rain was placed over the dome.

AndrÉe has finished adjusting the hoop to the car; the systems of pulleys, tackle, rigging attachments, etc., had all been most carefully prepared.

June 29th.—The hoop was then disconnected in order to be fastened to the rigging of the net. This operation being effected, we fixed on this hoop, horizontally, a bamboo pole; to this mast the sails, which already hung from the ropes, were to be fixed. A system of pulleys and tackle was arranged to effect the various manipulations required between the car and the hoop.

The three guide-ropes, weighing 1,984 lbs., were stretched from the shore to the hoop, and also eight other cables, each 76 yards long and weighing together 881 lbs. These latter, together with the guide-ropes, serve to prevent the balloon from coming too close to the earth, giving the effect of throwing out ballast to the extent of 881 lbs. more than the weight of the guide-ropes before the car could touch the ground. Under these conditions, the balloon will always keep its centre of gravity, even when exposed to a storm. The above-mentioned eight ropes serve another important purpose: they can be used to lengthen the guide-ropes in case it should be necessary to sacrifice those parts that fix into the ground at any time during the journey. AndrÉe can get rid of the lower part of the guide-ropes by a screw locked by a spring which connects this part with the rest of the hoop; a turn given from the top of the car is sufficient to start the spring and the screw. A second method consists of a dynamite explosive. This last method is preferable, for, in this case, only the part connected with the ground is lost.

The storing of the car was almost finished. A number of articles of all kinds were placed in it: scientific instruments, compasses, sextants, telescopes; photographic appliances and accessories; pharmaceutical preparations; culinary articles, lamps and electric batteries, arms, ammunition, etc., etc.; no space but what is utilised or is set apart for some particular purpose, and still a large space is left for a bed and some furs.

The provisions for the expedition were unpacked and exhibited in one of the rooms of Pike House. As was the case last year, they consisted of preserved foods and wines of all kinds. Dr. Lembke superintended their storage. They were packed in labelled pockets made of strong material, joined together and laid one over another so as to form one long bag; thirty-six similar bags containing 1,663 lbs. of food were attached to the top of the hoop by thirty-six suspending ropes.

AndrÉe is taking enough for four months only. He thinks this is sufficient, and that, if he should have to winter upon the ice, their arms will give them the opportunity of laying in a fresh stock of provisions. Pointing to his cartridges, he said, smiling, “There is some concentrated food.”

The various provisions left behind were carefully stored in Pike House; there was a great deal, enough to feed a large party for a whole year.

Twelve remaining ropes were hung with sledges, snow-shoes, a boat formed of a wooden framework that can be taken to pieces, and covered with a double covering of water-proofed material of the same nature as the envelope of the balloon. This very light boat measured six yards in length; it was a marvel of skilful construction.

Every one was surprised to see the quantity of things that could be stowed away in the rigging, without causing any confusion, and arranged over the platform of the hoop, within reach.

On the hoop itself, a number of articles were placed: picks, shovels, hatchets, anchors, a little windlass, buoys, etc. All these articles are of bronze or copper; the hatchets have a steel blade, set in copper. AndrÉe takes with him twelve despatch buoys, each consisting of a sphere of cork 7? inches in diameter coated with a thick coat of paint, partly blue and partly yellow, and protected by a network of copper wire. At the bottom the buoy is weighted by a cone filled with lead, which gives it the appearance of a top; at the upper portion is a copper stopper inscribed with the words “AndrÉe’s Polar Expedition, 1896,” and a number. This stopper closes a cavity cut in the cork to receive a tube, in which will be enclosed documents or messages from the explorers. The buoy is surmounted by a spiral spring of copper supporting a little Swedish flag of thin metal.

The buoys will be thrown out at different points of the voyage of the balloon. A thirteenth, larger than the others, will be left at that point of the route that shall be the nearest to the geographical pole that can be reached by the balloon.

July 1st.—We then proceeded to estimate the ascending power of the balloon. It was calculated that it could carry 3,747 lbs. of ballast, including that part of the cordage intended to be used as ballast, and that it could keep up for a minimum period of thirty to thirty-five days. This period could be extended in case of need, by sacrificing the sails and other parts that had become useless, the car if necessary, and part of the guide-ropes, as the explorers could still take refuge on the hoop, to which was attached all their provisions and necessaries. In this manner nearly 1,763 lbs. of supplementary ballast could be obtained, which would increase the length of the voyage by twenty days.

The aeronauts could thus remain in the air for more than fifty days, and at the same time keep their food and the necessary apparatus and cordage. Thus their departure would take place under most promising conditions.

As to the point of landing, the chances seem to point most to Siberia, which offers a very large extent of land; next in order of probability comes Alaska, in North America. AndrÉe did not think that the balloon could be drawn towards Greenland, with its gigantic glaciers attaining to such great altitudes, as the surrounding lower strata of air cool rapidly by contact with this boundless frozen mass, and currents would be formed there that would radiate in all directions. Only the currents of the upper atmosphere would approach these regions; but the AndrÉe balloon always travels close to the earth, which is, moreover, another point in favour of its longevity. We need not fear, therefore, that the explorers will be lost in the glaciers of Greenland.

Variable winds may drive the balloon for several days over the ice-field and over the ocean, before it can meet with a spot favourable to its descent. We have already seen that it could keep up for more than fifty days; therefore, unless any serious accident or unforeseen delay occurs, there is every reason to hope that before this time the aeronauts will have set foot on some hospitable ground. If, owing to some unforeseen cause, they should be obliged to descend on the ice-field, they would have to return in the same way as Dr. Nansen.

He, after leaving his ship, the Fram, in company with Lieutenant Johannsen, remained for fifteen months on the ice-field with only three months’ provisions.

AndrÉe took with him thirty-two carrier pigeons. We expect that some will return to Dane’s Island, where they have stayed for more than a month, and that they will bring us news of our friends. But we fear that these messengers will never return to Sweden; from Spitzbergen alone, they would have to travel a distance of nearly 1,637 miles in order to find their dove-cot. Those set free at the Pole would therefore have to travel more than 2,188 miles, and over the greater part of the journey they would find neither shelter nor food. Such great distances have never before, to my knowledge, been traversed by carrier pigeons, and, probably, those belonging to the expedition will not leave the balloon where they are lodged and fed, or if they do leave it, it will be to lose themselves in the Arctic regions and there perish miserably.

AndrÉe told us, therefore, not to be uneasy if we received no news of him for a year, as he might descend at a spot from which communication with other countries would be difficult, which would oblige him to winter with the Lapps or Esquimaux, or in an uninhabited part, where he would be left to his own resources, and he would then not be able to return till the following year.

VII
Before the Departure—Waiting for the South Wind

June 30th.—AndrÉe called us together to discuss the methods to be employed for starting his balloon. One great difficulty was, how to get the balloon out of its enclosure without the silk running the risk of being damaged by the wood of the shed.

Every one gave his opinion, and from all the suggestions put forward, the following conclusions were drawn:—

(1) All projecting parts of the shed against which the balloon might be injured should be covered with a thick pad of felt, in order to prevent any accident to the silk.

(2) The balloon, at its equator, should be protected by wide straps, which should be attached to the south side of the shed, so as to prevent it rolling against the mooring posts under the action of the wind.

(3) The south side of the shed should be closed as high as possible, and the highest floor should be provided with canvas to add to the height of the shelter; the canvas should be stretched out only at the last moment.

(4) For starting, the balloon should be held firmly to the ground by three cables attached to the hoop. It should be allowed to ascend to a sufficient height to allow of the car being placed in position, and then we should only have to free the balloon from its straps and cut the cables, in order to set it at liberty.

Orders were then given to put into immediate execution the operations decided upon.

The carpenters at once proceeded to the supports of the shed and padded all the projecting parts inside, whilst the sailors hastened to prepare the straps and the required canvas.

The polar balloon was soon ready to be launched into the air. Only the final operations remained to be carried out: the south side of the structure would have to be demolished, but this would not take long. AndrÉe having already had two floors demolished, only one remained to be removed; the ground floor, as it was not in the way, would be left to support the structure.

The placing of the car in position would only take a few minutes.

For the next few days we waited for the favourable wind.

Since our arrival at Spitzbergen, north winds had been blowing continuously. We had had no breeze from the south worth mentioning; the direction of the wind had always varied within the west-north-east sector. AndrÉe augured favourably from this; he hoped, and was even persuaded, that this state of affairs could not last much longer, that a change would soon take place in the atmosphere of the Arctic regions, and that south winds would prevail in their turn.

These days of waiting were very dull and monotonous. Idleness made us depressed; we sought for distractions. At meal-times, when all the members of the large family were assembled together, cheerfulness was restored, and, on the slightest excuse, we did not fail to give little entertainments, sometimes original and comic, which gave us all pleasure.

In Sweden, birthdays are always celebrated with great rejoicings, the person interested receiving presents, congratulations, etc. July 1st was the birthday of Dr. Lembke, a very genial and agreeable companion, on whom we had conferred, since our arrival at Dane’s Island, the title of “King of Spitzbergen,” on account of his corpulence and great stature.

We were all racking our brains to think of a present to offer His Majesty; but this was very difficult at Spitzbergen, where resources were necessarily limited. Nevertheless, we made our preparations, and in the morning, before our doctor was awake, each one brought his offering. Strindberg’s was a royal crown made out of a piece of silk gas tubing, the upper part of which he had fashioned most artistically; Fraenkel’s, a balloon of gold-beater’s skin, inflated with hydrogen, ornamented with long streamers of gay colours; the engineer Stake’s, a box of handkerchiefs cut out of the bands of stuff used to test the impermeability of the balloon; another brought some eiders’ eggs bearing humorous inscriptions; lastly, boxes of chocolate, biscuits, bonbons, fruit, etc., etc., and a bouquet composed of mosses and white and violet flowers, representing all the flora of the region.

At table, the doctor’s place was decorated with a large garland of different mosses, on which were laid raisins, almonds, oranges, etc.

The offering of the gifts was a very interesting little ceremony; each gift, more or less original, was received with good-humoured hilarity. And, in the evening, the champagne flowed merrily to emphasize our good wishes to the “King of Spitzbergen,” whose fund of amusing and funny stories seemed inexhaustible, but who asked to be allowed to resign his crown in order to pass his life more cheerfully and simply amongst his own people.

July 5th.—Since our arrival at Dane’s Island, after the first three or four days we had neither rain nor snow. The temperature, which varied very little, had always kept a few degrees above freezing point; a pleasant warmth was felt in the sun, when we were sheltered from the wind.

On this day, the change foretold by AndrÉe seemed to be coming, and for the first time since our arrival it rained, and the wind blew from the south-east.

July 6th.—The south wind at last, so long awaited, so ardently desired! It blew a gale. The rain had ceased; heavy clouds were passing northwards; a few hours would be sufficient to take the explorers to their destination.

AndrÉe devoted himself to meteorological observations while the first preparations were being made. The gas apparatus was set going at once to fill up the balloon.

Soon everything was ready; they were only waiting for AndrÉe’s orders to demolish the shed. He, absorbed by his observations, was meditating and seemed undecided. He kept going from one instrument to another, taking the direction of the wind from various points, comparing this direction with that of the clouds: it seemed difficult to him to come to a decision. The barometer had fallen too rapidly. Certainly the start would have to be made during a barometric depression, but we expected it to be slow and gradual. At last, after two hours’ observations, AndrÉe came slowly back to us to tell us the result of his researches. In a calm, firm voice, he said he should not start that day, because the wind, then very favourable, would not last long. He was very vexed, but he hoped that before long there would be other currents of air, more stable and more favourable. Nevertheless, he said when once the 15th of July was past, he would start on the first opportunity, even if the atmospheric conditions were only moderately favourable; but now he feared to compromise the success of the expedition by a premature departure.

It will be seen that AndrÉe combined great prudence with his scientific experience; moreover, his predictions proved correct. The next day, the south wind was succeeded by a north wind, and we still waited.

July 9th.—Bad weather, rain and a west wind. A Norwegian sailing vessel took refuge in our bay. It was returning from the ice-field, where the crew had been hunting seals, and had killed more than 700. The sailors were engaged in cutting up the animals; the skins were salted and the fat stored in barrels to be melted down.

July 10th.—The bad weather continued, with cold fogs and rain.

The Lofoten visited us for the second time with more tourists. Amongst them, I was pleased to meet some friends of our family: M. and Mme. H. Vieillard, and two other French travellers, M. Obermeyer, editor of the Figaro, and his wife. I much regretted not having time to say much to my fellow-countrymen. The Lofoten is engaged in a regular service between Hammerfest and Advent Bay; she had little time to spare, having extended her trip to come to Dane’s Island, and could not stop more than an hour in Virgo Bay.

In the evening the sky cleared, the rain ceased, and a strong wind blew from the south-west. The barometer, which had been falling for two days, still continued to do so slowly. We now had a chance of a wind favourable to our expedition.

VIII
The Departure

Sunday, July 11th.—A decided south wind! Would it last this time, or would it again prove a delusion?

AndrÉe and his companions consulted for some time the various instruments from each post of observation. The atmospheric conditions seemed favourable.

Together with AndrÉe, we went to the top of the shed to examine carefully the work that had been done, and to arrange about the preparations for starting. The wind was very violent. The wooden structure trembled under our feet; I feared sometimes that it would be blown down, and the balloon destroyed. But this apparently light structure was really very solidly built, of which fact it had furnished excellent proofs. Moreover, it was sheltered by a hill 329 feet high.

After having enumerated the various operations to be performed, AndrÉe returned to his observations for a few minutes. The result was favourable. The direction of the wind seemed quite settled; but he did not give the order to start. This time he dared not take the sole responsibility of this decision, so he consulted his fellow-travellers. It was a very delicate question for the members staying behind, Svedenborg and myself, to decide; the decision rested rather with those directly interested. Strindberg and Fraenkel wished to start at once, and besides, what were we waiting for? Time was passing, the season was advancing; therefore, the sooner, the better.

AndrÉe did not express his opinion; it was not necessary, we guessed it. He was burning to set out for the conquest of the Pole; and he only said, “The departure is decided upon.”

We returned on board the Svensksund, where the sailors in uniform, and in the presence of the officers, were attending a short religious service, after having been reviewed as usual on Sunday.

As soon as the decision was known, Captain EhrensvÄrd gave orders for the whole crew to resume their working clothes immediately.

Two Norwegian sailing vessels, returning from the north, entered the bay, and made ready to cast anchor opposite the shed. Signals were exchanged, to ask them to take up a different position, so as to leave a free passage for the AndrÉe balloon, which would start in a few hours.

The workers are ready, and are being taken ashore by the boats.

The carpenters and a detachment of sailors go quickly up into the shed, and demolish the northern portion with surprising rapidity.

It is 11 o’clock in the morning. AndrÉe is standing before the shed, observing everything. His orders follow one another, brief and rapid; his voice resounds, rendered still stronger by a speaking trumpet. Nothing is heard but the crackling of the wood as it is broken away, and the wooden beams as they come crashing to the ground. A detachment of men clear away the rubbish as it falls.

On the south side, at the top of the shed, sailors are stretching the canvas between the masts, thus increasing by 13 feet the height of the roof.

Everywhere is feverish activity; the preparations go on rapidly.

We now turn our attention to the balloon, which slowly rises, as the bags of ballast are slowly let down from mesh to mesh until they stop at the hoop.

The wind becomes more and more violent. Puffs reach the balloon, which sways greatly from side to side; the equatorial straps support it well, and restrain its movements.

The cords are then arranged which work the valves and the rending flap. These delicate parts require constant inspection during these last operations, in order to prevent their working badly. Stadling hangs over the circle, on to a horizontal rope, a series of baskets in which were the carrier pigeons. This preliminary part of the preparations being concluded, the ballast bags are withdrawn until the balloon is properly balanced. The hoop remains firmly held to the ground by three cables long enough to enable it to rise sufficiently high for the car to be fixed in position. The rest of the ballast bags are collected into three groups, hung to the hoop by three ropes.

The car, which, with all its contents, weighs nearly 1,102 lbs., is brought under. It is slipped into its place, and quickly fastened to the hoop by the six cables supporting it.

AndrÉe walks round the balloon and round the shed, giving a last glance at every detail, satisfying himself that everything is ready and in good working order.

The solemn hour has arrived.

Strindberg, who has always been a great friend of mine, as we have a mutual sympathy with one another, begs me to send his fiancÉe proofs of the last photographs that I shall succeed in developing, and which would interest her. He shows great emotion while speaking to me; it is not fear of the perils that he is about to face, but other sentiments that are agitating him at this moment. It is easy for me to guess what they are.

When will he see again that charming Swedish girl, whose photograph which he has so often shown me, and carries next his heart?

How many days, how many months, will she be anxiously waiting, and receiving no news?

What anxiety, what suspense, await that poor young girl?

But what joy will follow the glorious return of her beloved! What firm bonds of affection will bind them together after this long, hard separation!

Oh! how I wish them this happiness with all my heart!

Greatly affected myself, I shake convulsively the hand of my friend, who is leaving all that he holds dearest in the world for the glorious accomplishment of a scientific enterprise, and with a final clasp I promise him once again that his wish will be a sacred duty to me!

He gives me a last letter for his fiancÉe; then, controlling the emotion which was overcoming him, he rejoins AndrÉe and Fraenkel, who are also taking leave of their friends.

AndrÉe is thanking all the members of the expedition for the help they have rendered him in his enterprise. He gives the captain several telegrams written in haste at the last minute; one, addressed to the King of Sweden, is worded thus:—

Another telegram, addressed to the Aftonbladet, Stockholm, said:—

The last farewells are brief and touching; few words are exchanged, but hearty handclasps between those whose hearts are in sympathy say more than words.

Suddenly AndrÉe snatches himself away from the embraces of his friends, and takes his place on the wicker bridge of the car, from whence he calls in a firm voice:—

“Strindberg,—Fraenkel,—let us go!”

His two companions at once take their places beside him. They are all three armed with a knife for cutting the ropes supporting the groups of ballast bags.

This being done, Captain EhrensvÄrd and Lieutenants Norselius and Celsing give their sailors orders which are at once put into execution.

The equatorial straps fall at one stroke.

The balloon, freed from this restraint, moves slightly; it quits the state of torpor in which it seemed to be plunged; it now seems to have come to life, and, notwithstanding its shelter, it rolls greatly on its lower moorings, from which it tries to free itself.

We wait a few seconds, in order to seize a moment of calm, before the order is given to start.

Three of the most adroit sailors, armed with knives, hold themselves in readiness, at a given signal, to cut the three cables by which alone the balloon is now held captive.

The entire crew of the Svensksund are present, and also the crews of the three Norwegian whaling vessels anchored in Virgo Bay.

There is profound silence at this minute; we only hear the whistling of the wind through the woodwork of the shed, and the flapping of the canvas, which hangs over the upper part of the south side.

Amongst the cordage of the car are seen the three heroes, standing admirably cool and calm.

AndrÉe is always calm, cold, and impassible. Not a trace of emotion is visible on his countenance; nothing but an expression of firm resolution and an indomitable will.

He is just the man for such an enterprise; and he is well seconded by his two companions.

At length the decisive moment arrives.

“One! Two! Cut!” cries AndrÉe in Swedish.

The three sailors obey the order simultaneously, and in one second the aerial ship, free and unfettered, rises majestically into space, saluted with our heartiest cheers.

We rush to the doors to get out of the shed. I have the chance of getting out first through a secret opening I have made in the woodwork, so as to be able to rush to my photographic apparatus and have time to take a few snapshots at this stupendous moment.

Being encumbered with the heavy cordage that it takes with it, the balloon does not rise to a height of 328 feet.

It is dragged by the wind.

Behind the mountain that is sheltering us stormy winds are raging, and a current of air sweeps down from the summit and attacks the balloon, which for a moment descends rapidly towards the sea. This incident, which we had foreseen before the departure, but the natural cause of which struck few of the spectators at the moment, produces great excitement amongst some of us. The sailors rush to the boats to be ready to lend assistance to the explorers, whom they expect to see engulfed in the waves. Their alarm was of short duration; the descending movement soon becomes slower, and the car just touches the water and ascends again immediately.

Unfortunately, the lower parts of the guide-ropes, which were made so as to become detached if they should be caught in the ground, have remained on the shore. At the start the ropes were caught in some rocks on the shore, and the screws for separating the parts worked. But AndrÉe is well provided against this loss, so that this accident is not likely to have serious consequences.

At the edge of the water, on the beach studded with rocks and large stones, we all stand, breathlessly watching the various phases, rapidly following one upon another, of the commencement of this stirring and unprecedented aerial journey.

The balloon, which has now righted itself at about 164 feet above the sea, is rapidly speeding away; the guide-ropes glide over the water, making a very perceptible wake, which is visible from its starting point, like the track made by a ship. The state of affairs seems to us on the shore to be the best that could be hoped for. We exchange last signals of farewell with our friends; hats and handkerchiefs are waved frantically.

Soon we can no longer distinguish the aeronauts; but we can see that they are arranging their sails, as these latter are displayed in succession on their bamboo mast; then we observe a change of direction. The balloon is now travelling straight to the north; it goes along swiftly, notwithstanding the resistance that must be offered by the dragging ropes; we estimate its speed at from 18 to 22 miles an hour. If it keeps up this initial speed and the same direction, it will reach the Pole in less than two days.

The aerial globe seems now no bigger than an egg. On the horizon an obstacle appears in the route; this is the continuation of a chain of mountains about 328 feet high right in the path of the balloon, which seems very close to the obstacle, and some of the sailors round me, who have never before seen a balloon start on its trip, seem in great terror; they think the balloon will be hopelessly wrecked. I reassure them, telling them that the balloon is still far away from the hills, which will be easily surmounted, without there even being any necessity to throw out ballast.

The balloon travels on, maintained at the same altitude by the guide-ropes. In the neighbourhood of the hills there is an upward current of air; the balloon will follow this; it would only risk striking against the obstacle if the movement were downwards, which is not the case. Moreover, the guide-ropes first rest upon the rocks and thus lighten the balloon, which gradually rises.

We see it clear the top of the hill, and stand out clearly for a few minutes against the blue sky, and then slowly disappear from our view behind the hill.

Scattered along the shore, we stand motionless, with hearts full, and anxious eyes, gazing at the silent horizon.

For one moment then, between two hills, we perceive a grey speck over the sea, very, very far away, and then it finally disappears.

The way to the Pole is clear, no more obstacles to encounter; the sea, the ice-field, and the Unknown!

We look at one another for a moment, stupefied. Instinctively we draw together without saying a word. There is nothing, nothing whatever in the distance to tell us where our friends are; they are now shrouded in mystery.

“Farewell! Farewell! Our most fervent prayers go with you. May God help you! Honour and glory to your names!”

Alexis Machuron.