first icebergs, and progress became more difficult.
[Illustration: DANSK-GATT.]
_June 16th, noon._—Since the morning we have been running along the
coast of Spitzbergen, my future home, the place of my temporary exile.
The progress of the boat is slow and perilous, in the midst of floating
ice-blocks, which threaten to crush us at every moment. It requires all
the experience of the captain and all the vigilance of the man at the
wheel to avoid a catastrophe.
The ice pilot is on the look-out in the rigging, and indicates by signal
the open channels.
We have seen a large number of birds, whales throwing up an immense
stream of water, seals, etc. Three of these animals were disporting
themselves on an ice-floe within gunshot. They were at once saluted by a
discharge of guns, which did not hit them.
A variety of birds, very common in these regions, among them the auk,
or fulmar (a kind of wild duck), which dives immediately it is pursued.
This is, moreover, the way in which these birds seek their food, like all
birds of the polar regions, for they live on fish. The steward of the
vessel has just killed two with one shot. These birds have a very clumsy
flight, their tail is very short, and it is only with the aid of their
web feet that they steer themselves.
Yesterday, while passing near the Isle of Beeren-Eiland, which was hidden
from our view by the fog, we saw myriads of birds of all kinds, among
others a large number of sea-gulls.
This morning the thermometer stood at 2° above zero (Centigrade), 35·6
Fahr.
There was hoar-frost all along the rigging, and the sailors on the watch
above cannot be overwarm.
We met a Norwegian sailing boat which was hunting walrusses, and had been
cruising for several days in sight of Spitzbergen; they gave us some
useful hints as to the state of the ice. Every now and then a sailor took
soundings; the depth was from 15 to 20 fathoms.
The _Virgo_ has just stopped her engines; the officers are holding a
council. We are at the 76th degree of latitude, and we have not much
further to go in order to reach Ice-Fjord, where we shall put in first
before proceeding to Norsk-Oarna.
To the right the mountains covered with eternal snow; in front of us
an impassable ice-field. There is an open passage near the coast, but
the captain does not know the depth of water there. He is examining his
charts. We shall have to wait. However, I fear a delay which will not
suit Andrée.
III
The Installation
_Wednesday, June 17th, in lat. 77° N._—After having vainly sought a
passage during the whole of yesterday, the captain considered it wise to
take refuge in the Horn-Sund Bay, a small natural port to the south-east
of Spitzbergen, where he cast anchor this morning at four o’clock.
Here we are secure from all danger, and shall patiently wait till the sea
is open, which will not be long.
Our little harbour is a marvel of creation; a ring of mountains covered
with snow, the summits of which were this morning veiled in mist. Immense
glaciers, from which portions detach themselves with a fearful crash,
animate this white landscape, while at the same time they inspire us with
a feeling of vague dread. Gigantic icebergs, resembling in their shape
and bluish colour immense crystals of copperas, are drifting about in
the middle of the bay—a veritable oasis, where the temperature is very
mild, notwithstanding the snow which covers the ground almost entirely.
The sun is very hot, casting a golden reflection over the whole of this
charming picture, which the birds enhance by their glad song, as if to
testify to their joy and love of life.
At 9 a.m. we set foot on _terra firma_ with undisguised satisfaction.
Andrée, Ekholm, and Strindberg go ashore equipped with their instruments.
They fix our bearings and determine the magnetic declination.
In fact, they have been working incessantly since we went to sea. They
are true men of science, in love with their work, learned, yet making no
show of their knowledge. The geologists have found a vast field for their
researches, and the botanists have been able to collect at their ease.
However, while the fauna is varied enough, the flora is very scanty,
being confined to a few lichens, with mosses of a pretty green colour,
cochlearias, and dwarf saxifrages, the tiny violet flowers of which are
charming to behold.
Some climbed the mountains and descended the slopes on ski, the beloved
snow-shoes of the Scandinavian. Others went hunting with the arms
presented by Swedish armourers to the Polar Expedition. As for myself,
I was content to admire this imposing nature, and tried to utilise
my modest talents as an amateur photographer, in order to perpetuate
on negatives the splendid picture in which the _Virgo_ was set, now
appearing reduced to Liliputian proportions.
Our general quarters were established on the ruins of an encampment which
had belonged to a party of Siberian hunters who spent the whole of last
year on this spot.
There are many fragments of driftwood cast ashore by the waves, and
numerous bones; a sailor picked up an enormous vertebra of a whale, and
the doctor extracted a molar from the jaw of a bear (the bear was no
longer there to protest).
The pilot went to explore the sea from the top of the mountains. No
change this morning in the state of the ice.
We reassembled on the _Virgo_ for lunch at two o’clock. Andrée went in
the ship’s boat to shoot seals, but without hitting any. After lunch we
returned to the shore, and each of us occupied himself according to his
taste. The sky cleared up, and a very cold and cutting east wind arose.
The boat was tossed about a good deal as we returned, and the current
drove before it all the pieces of ice floating in the bay. At 11.30 p.m.,
at the moment when I am writing these lines, a sun-ray is falling through
my porthole, and the wind is whistling with some violence.
_Saturday, June 20th, 4 a.m._—Pleasant awakening at the mouth of the Bay
of Ice-Fjord, opposite the _Raftsund_, which has been at anchor since
last night.
Weather dull, a fine cold rain. A boat comes towards us, bringing a
correspondent of the paper _Aftonbladet_, of Stockholm, who is to
accompany us to Norsk-Oarna.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF A GENERATOR.]
A small boat brings my friend Vieillard, who is the bearer of despatches
for me. We spend two hours together, and my joy is great at seeing him
again, and at last hearing news from my family. Then the moment of
parting comes. M. Vieillard rejoins his vessel in order to return to
France; he takes with him my letters and despatches. I take several
negatives of the _Raftsund_, a splendid boat; and the _Virgo_ then
continues her course towards the north, after having exchanged the
customary salutes.
The sea is free from ice, and the _Virgo_ is now going ahead full speed.
_Sunday, 21st._—Towards 2 a.m. we arrive in sight of the Norsk-Oarna
Islands, the place intended for the erection of the shed and the future
centre of our operations.
During the morning we take a reconnoitring trip by boat round the islands
in order to find a favourable place, accessible to our vessel, the
unloading of which will be very difficult in the absence of a landing
quay and all the plant usually available in any port.
The charts which we possess of this region are very inaccurate. Andrée
takes a survey of several points of the coast. The huntsmen in the
boat bagged about ten eider-geese. We gave up the idea of establishing
ourselves here, and in the afternoon we reached the Isle of Amsterdam, 7½
miles to the south-west.
The sky is clear, the air is keen and cutting.
_Monday morning._—The three explorers made a fresh survey, and Andrée
finally decided on the little vale of Dansk-Gatt as the point where we
are to establish ourselves.
The place is sheltered on all sides by high mountains, opening out to
the north only upon the open sea. A wooden hut, formerly constructed by
an Englishman, Mr. Pike, will serve us as a shelter, and we shall leave
there the surplus of our reserve store of provisions. This hospitable
little house already possesses a depôt of preserved provisions, coal, and
various articles. The ground is strewn with pieces of rock and covered
with snow, into which one sinks up to one’s knees.
_Tuesday, June 23rd._—At 6 a.m. the vessel began to unload; all the
boats are out at sea. The _Virgo_ cannot approach nearer than within 164
yards of the bank. The disembarkation of the balloon and the gas plant
will present very serious difficulties, and will certainly take up much
precious time.
Thermometer 2° (35·6 Fahr.) above freezing point. Barometer 29·92 inches.
Wind south-west, fresh. Sky cloudy, clear patches at rare intervals.
Sun very hot. Sea calm. The steam launch has got up steam. Mr. Pike’s
yacht came to visit the house on the 16th inst. This little structure,
built entirely of wood like the Norwegian houses, is comfortable enough;
it contains a dining-room, bed-rooms, and a kitchen. There are stoves
in all the rooms, and our sailors have lighted them in order to dry the
walls; the lock shuts badly, and the door is kept to with a piece of ice.
The garret serves excellently as a dove-cot, and we install our pigeons
there, but they will not be so comfortable there as in their ordinary
pigeon-house; nevertheless, it will be a convenient shelter for them.
These pigeons have been trained at Hammerfest. We have already despatched
several while at sea, but do not know yet whether they have returned to
Norway.
_Wednesday, June 24th._—The unloading of the vessel proceeds rapidly. The
site for the shed is ready, and the carpenters are starting work.
This shed, intended to shelter the balloon, deserves special mention.
Designed in a very ingenious manner, it was erected at Gothenburg, where
the inhabitants of the town could inspect it before it was dismantled for
shipment. It is of octagonal shape, and consists of four storeys, each
measuring 196·8545 inches in height. The various storeys are joined to
each other by means of bolts; the last storey is surmounted by a balcony
all round.
In order to facilitate re-erection in Spitzbergen, the component parts of
each storey are marked with marks of different colour. The floor of the
shed is composed of timber work, all meeting in the centre, and made fast
on the rocks with pieces of wood, for the ground is very irregular, and
it is impossible to level it.
On the east and west sides, two staircases lead to the balcony, and at
the same time serve to strengthen the structure.
The re-erection of this shed at Dane’s Island was very laborious. It was
carried out with much skill by the two master carpenters, assisted by the
crew.
It was necessary, first of all, to remove the snow which covered the
ground, to lay foundations, and join together the beams, which were put
up and shifted by means of a hand-winch placed in the centre of the
structure, and slewing all round.
[Illustration: ARRIVAL OF A GAS GENERATOR.]
The work was frequently interfered with by storms, which compelled the
carpenters to interrupt their task.
The framework, when once put up, was closed in with large panels of wood
prepared in Sweden.
The upper part of the shed is carried up on the south side, above the
rest of the structure, by means of beams 16 feet 4 inches high, carrying
a canvas cover, intended to protect the top of the balloon against a
violent wind.
A movable roof or canvas awning, sliding on wire cables, was intended to
protect the balloon against snow. Unfortunately time did not permit of
putting it up in position.
_June 26th._—In the morning the sun appeared; the sky is very clear, and
the snow is slowly melting. The temperature is pleasant to-day; but now,
in the afternoon, the cirri are approaching, and I believe that the fine
weather will not last long.
The _Virgo_, relieved of part of its cargo, was able to get within 66
yards of the shore. The crew then proceeded to discharge the heavy
packages, hydrogen generators, and the case containing the balloon. The
three ship’s boats, coupled together, were made up into a kind of raft,
hauled by the steam launch.
In order to bring ashore these packages, which weighed from two to three
tons, it was found necessary to form a roadway (or a kind of inclined
plane), with the aid of two large pine logs brought from Norway, and to
haul them by means of a pulley tackle drawn by the whole of the crew.
One is struck with the calm and intense stillness which reigns in these
regions remote from all civilization. The mountain birds alone break its
monotony, and give us a joyous concert.
In roaming over the islands, one is surprised at the number of tumuli
and human remains to be met with. This is because Spitzbergen, too, has
its history, and that a rather troubled one; but we will not speak of it
here.
IV
The _Victoria_—Bear Hunting
On the 27th of June, in the afternoon, our attention is attracted by the
arrival of a vessel coming from the north. It is always a pleasant event
to come across other navigators in these distant regions; it makes one
feel less lonely and isolated. It is Mr. Pick’s _Victoria_, commanded
by Captain Nilson, who hunts bears and seals on these shores. She casts
anchor near the _Virgo_. We enter a boat and go to welcome the travellers.
Andrée obtains some information from the captain as to the state of the
ice in the north. I pay a visit to the boat, which, though otherwise
plain and rough, is nevertheless fitted up to perfection for the peculiar
nature of her expeditions. She contains various objects which are not
without interest for me, who am a new-comer to these regions, such as
skins of bears and various birds; also a live young bear, captured at
the Norwegian islands, which utters ominous growls, and seems to protest
energetically against this outrage upon its liberty.
Sunday, the 28th of June, was an eventful day, and full of emotions. The
_Victoria_ left at 9 a.m. for Ice-Fjord, taking with her an enormous
parcel of letters, with our best wishes for our nearest and dearest.
After an early lunch we started for an excursion. Strindberg, Grumberg,
Arrhénius, Dr. Ekelund, two engineers, two sailors, and myself, went off
in the steam launch.
The weather was superb, the sea calm, the sky a little misty; some pretty
cumuli touched the summits of the mountains. We steamed round Dane’s
Island, and shaped our course towards Smeerenburg.
Our little boat goes ahead full speed, and gives herself up to a mad race
among floating ice-blocks which cover the surface of the bay.
The spectacle is marvellous. We are surrounded by imposing rocks, whence
the snow descends in capricious veins and furrows, and whose craggy
summits, gilded by a glowing sun, are set off against an azure sky of
exceeding purity. These granite rocks, of grotesque and erratic shape,
throw the most fantastic shadows upon the white surface of the glaciers.
The atmosphere is so transparent that it is very difficult to estimate
distances merely by the eye. The mountains are from 2,000 to 3,000 feet
high, and yet at first sight one would think that they are very easy to
climb. I have very often been misled by this optical illusion. Sounds can
be heard very clearly at a great distance.
We cross the course of the little sailing boat of Stadling, the
correspondent of the Stockholm _Aftonbladet_, and the colombophile of the
polar expedition.
He is also starting on a journey of discovery, together with two
companions.
We take our course towards the east, and land on a little islet covered
with moss.
Our guns bring down several eider-geese, and on setting foot ashore we
came across several nests of these birds, containing three or four eggs
of the size of goose eggs and of a greyish-green colour.
But our survey is soon made, and we resume our course in a south-easterly
direction, where we can already see the outline of the Isle of Moffen,
which is the goal of our excursion.
This isle presents a singular contrast with the surrounding mountains,
owing to the vigour of its colouring, which changes from a light-green to
a dark-brown.
The mosses of different varieties, interspersed with yellowish lichens
and saxifrages of a delicate violet tint, offer us a soft carpet,
inviting to rest, and delighting to the eye.
Thousands of birds, making a deafening noise, inhabit this enchanted land.
But their tranquillity is disturbed by our prosaic and insatiable
hunters, who give themselves up to a veritable hecatomb of game. They
have scarcely got ashore, and about one hundred eider-geese are already
lying on the ground. They are so numerous and so unsuspecting that they
will scarcely move away more than a few yards from us; one can easily see
that their solitude is rarely disturbed by visitors of our species, or at
least of an equally bellicose character.
[Illustration: THE _EXPRESS_, THE _ERLINE JARL_, THE _VIRGO_, DEPARTURE
OF THE _VICTORIA_.]
They much resemble our domestic ducks, and one might easily imagine one’s
self in the midst of a park or a poultry yard. At one moment I had about
ten around me, come to drink or bathe in a little brook of clear water,
which babbled in a cascade over the moss and pebbles.
At every step one comes across a nest made of moss and feathers,
sheltered by a fragment of rock. The female bird has plucked off her
softest down to protect her eggs or her brood against the frost. The
brooding bird is scarcely disturbed by our approach. She covers up her
eggs and hides them under the down before taking her flight, if she is
given time to do so. The reports of the gun repeated again and again by
the echo reverberating from the mountains resemble the rolling of thunder
and make a hideous din.
At four o’clock, a lunch, highly appreciated, is served out on a bank
of moss. This meal, partaken with vigorous appetite, consists of ham,
caviar, and slices of smoked reindeer-flesh; the whole being washed down
with light beer, and seasoned by the most unrestrained gaiety. A pure
Havannah cigar completes this most unconventional feast.
We fill our lungs with the pure air, and feel it a joy to live.
But time glides swiftly by, and we must think of returning. We are two
hours’ journey from the _Virgo_.
Our sailors make an extensive raid upon the nests, and return loaded with
baskets full of eggs and down. The game is put on board and we depart.
As we run along, the coast and glaciers are covered with seals, but the
noise of our engine frightens them and they flee at our approach.
The sea has become rough, and the wind, which takes us port, sends up
waves which threaten to swamp the boat. We are much tossed about, but I
can now stand the rolling of the vessel like an old mariner. However,
we must not boast: one cannot be too sure of anything. The temperature
has gone down perceptibly, and the cumuli, which a short time ago were
hovering on the sides of the mountains, are now lowering down upon the
sea, and soon envelop us completely. We are now in the midst of a very
dense and cold fog. We can scarcely see a few yards in front of us, and
we must slacken speed in order to avoid collision with the icebergs
detached from the glaciers. The sun, which, a moment ago, still showed
very feebly, has completely disappeared. We are plunged into utter
darkness, and in spite of compass and charts we have, for the moment,
lost our bearings. What a change, after the aspect of the sky a short
while ago! The engineer whistles by way of a call to the _Virgo_, but
there is no response from that vessel.
Without being actually desperate, our situation is becoming critical, as
we no longer know exactly what distance we have covered.
We run a risk of passing our island without perceiving it, and of getting
lost at sea!
At last, after several detours, we recognise the lagoons of the Isle of
Amsterdam on the right, and soon a sailor points out the _Virgo_, which
looms in the semi-darkness at a distance of fifty yards or so in front of
us.
At this moment it is 8 p.m. The captain, Andrée, and Ekholm are on the
deck. Without being alarmed at our fate, they were glad enough to see us
back again; but Stadling’s boat has not yet come back.
The mist becomes thicker and thicker, and one can scarcely see from one
end of the vessel to the other. One of the crew is ringing the bell
every few moments, in order to indicate the route to the three belated
tourists. The supper passes off very gaily. Each recounts his adventures
and describes his impressions; mine have been of a very lively nature.
But the day had still a far more remarkable event in store for us.
We were beginning to be rather troubled about the fate of our friends,
when at about 10 p.m., having gone up on to the gangway to see how the
fog was, I heard, very faintly at first, a murmuring sound, then a song
keeping time with the splash of oars. No doubt it is they; evidently
they, too, have lost their way.
The outline of the gallant little craft appears a few yards away, and the
boat comes on propelled by oars, as they had been compelled to take down
their sail. But what is that shapeless mass, of a doubtful white, spotted
with red, which fills the bottom of the boat?
Although worn out with fatigue, the excursionists are radiant; they have
performed veritable prodigies: they have been bear-hunting, and bring
back three dead bears in their frail boat.
[Illustration: DANES ISLAND.]
They are at once the object of an enthusiastic ovation, while the
animals—a large she-bear and two cubs—are hoisted on board, leaving a
pool of blood in the bottom of the little boat.
You already know Stadling, permit me to introduce his two
companions—Appelberg, engineering student of the Stockholm technical
school, and Axel Stack, chemical engineer at the Stockholm University—and
let the first-named gentleman recount in his own words the circumstances
of this somewhat dramatic adventure:—
“You will remember the charming day we had on the 28th of June; the sun
glistened on the waters of Smeerenburg as on a mirror, the surrounding
mountains enhancing the wildness and grandeur of the scene. You will
also remember the glacier at the bottom of Smeerenburg. I have told you
about the adventure we had opposite this glacier, when in consequence of
a sudden split a detached mass of enormous size produced in the sea an
immense wave, which threatened to engulph our small boat and gave us an
unexpected douche.
“Immediately after this adventure I hastened to take a photo of the
glacier. While searching for a suitable point, I discovered in the snow
on the shore the track of three bears going from east to west, in the
direction of South-Gatt and the open sea. Having informed my companions
of this lucky find, I returned to the boat, followed by my friends, one
of whom was gravely engaged in drying his clothes in the sun, after the
enforced bath caused by the splitting of the glacier.
“Thereupon a rather original chase commenced; my companions rowed, whilst
I held the rudder lines, at the same time observing through my glasses
the tracks on the bank and following their direction. The tracks of the
bears led us continually from east to west. Here and there the animals
evidently had rested in some natural trenches formed in the snow. In
other places there were sloping grooves on the bank, where the bears had
amused themselves by sliding on these natural sledges. Having passed two
promontories and a very old glacier, we arrived at a third promontory,
beyond which there was another glacier about 1¼ mile wide. In front of it
there was an iceberg.
“When we arrived at the extreme point of the promontory, we stopped, as
no further tracks were visible; from this we concluded that the bears
must be somewhere in the neighbourhood.
“Having reconnoitred as far as the firm ice, protected by large icebergs,
I perceived the bears below the glacier, jumping one after another from a
block of ice. The mother, followed by her cubs, was giving herself up to
this exercise either to amuse herself or to give her young ones a lesson
in gymnastics,—I do not know which.