in feverish anxiety, Andrée resigns himself to open the valves of the
balloon, which is quite full; and it is with regret, easily understood,
that I watch the escape of 17,658 cubic feet of gas, to produce which
gave us so much labour.
[Illustration: THE SWEDISH GUNBOAT _SVENSKSUND_.]
The folding and packing are not easy work. And then, as the case of the
balloon had been destroyed, it was necessary to improvise one and take
the whole material back on board the _Virgo_. The planks of the shed,
except those of the second storey, required for the stability of the
edifice, have been removed. The gas apparatus is covered over, and all
the delicate or fragile parts are shipped on board.
_Thursday, August 20th._—The _Virgo_ is loaded. The morning was spent in
solidly tying up all objects which might be shifted by rolling. Andrée is
working in the shed up to the last moment; he is tying down the boards,
shrouding the frames; he has the half of the floor carried off so that
the wind may sweep away the snow. Then he leaves, fixed to a post, a
framed placard stating the ownership and the object of the shed, which he
commends to the care of the few fishermen who are still in the islands of
the North.
Finally, after lunch, at four o’clock, the _Virgo_ weighs anchor. We
take a last photograph, and a last look at Dane’s Island, which soon
disappears in the fog. The expedition is at an end.
XII
The Storm
The barometer has undergone a rapid depression since last night. Hardly
had we rounded Amsterdam Island, taking a south-west course, when the
vessel began to roll, and a few moments later the storm struck us. The
sky darkened and the _Virgo_ lurched terribly. I was again a prey to
terrible sea-sickness and retired to my cabin. All the kitchen utensils
and earthenware vessels are dancing a jig round me. The _Virgo_ which has
lost some of her ballast is rolling frightfully. The captain has had a
small jib placed at the bow which lessens the rolling.
The wind is raging and furious waves are sweeping the deck. Only a few
of the crew have escaped sickness, and in the evening the dining-room is
empty.
Every two hours the ship is stopped and Professor Arrhénius takes
samples of water at various depths; when the engine stops the rolling is
still worse. We are overtaken by a snowstorm and darkness is complete.
After twenty-four hours on a south-westerly course, which is taking us
away from Tromsö, the _Virgo_ returns south-east, and the storm begins to
subside. We see ships at a distance, and the temperature rises as we draw
nearer to Norway.
It was on the 22nd that we passed near Beren Island, which was hidden by
the fog. A number of birds surrounded our ship which is again sailing
fast.
XIII
My last Night on the _Virgo_
The storm has blown over. I recovered my appetite and my good humour, and
the night of the 23rd-24th was a very pleasant one.
For some time past I had seen no darkness, and this night was not without
poetic surroundings.
A few stars are already twinkling in the zenith, when at about ten
o’clock the sun disappeared from the horizon leaving a long twilight
which lasted until dawn.
[Illustration: A LAPLANDERS’ CAMP.]
The sky was tinted with purple hues forming an immense rainbow,
stretching from west to east. Grey clouds of the weirdest forms travelled
through space, and lent animation to a view which it would be difficult
to paint. The full moon, which appeared as the sun set, shone brightly,
casting her white light on the silvery waves. The disc was extremely
large, and the outlines of the land were shown very distinctly.
Alone on the bridge, I gave myself up to my dreams. The temperature
having perceptibly risen, I experienced the greatest comfort in sailing
thus in the direction of the land. My companions were hardly able to
rouse me from my contemplation and induce me to go down and play cards
in the dining-room, where a lamp was lit for the first time. The sea was
as calm as a lake, and navigation was a pleasure in this calm after the
storms we have endured.
_August 24th._—It is dawn, the moon is waning and the day-star resumes
possession of the scene. Birds still accompany us and whirl round the
_Virgo_, the black smoke of which unrolls itself like a plume of feathers.
We are approaching the Norwegian coast, and can see the cliffs. Vessels
and craft of every description are moving to and fro. We are coming back
to life; we feel that we are returning to civilization. The breakfast
at nine o’clock is very animated. The weather is warm, and we are all
preparing to make our entrance into Tromsö.
At eleven o’clock we are at last in sight of the town, and by noon the
_Virgo_ is berthed in the port opposite the _Fram_, which we had met at
Dansk-Gatt on the 14th of August.
XIV
The Return
We are at once surrounded by friends, and learn with pleasure that Nansen
is a guest on board the small white yacht _Otaria_, anchored near the
_Fram_, which she brought in tow from Hammerfest.
I much regret not being able to shake hands with him, but I am leaving
my companions after sincere and heartfelt farewells to take my passage
on the mail boat _Haakon Jarl_, which is leaving in a few minutes. Dr.
Ekelund accompanies me to Trondhjem. One of the officers on board hands
me letters and papers from France. Now, then, I am going to have a
foretaste of the pleasure of again seeing those dear to me; I already
feel that they are near me.
The _Haakon Jarl_ is a superb steamer, conducting the mail service along
the coasts of Norway, where railways are unknown.
Navigation through the fjords is full of charms and surprises. The
landscape is of the most varied description: at one time tall rocks,
snow-capped like the mountains of Spitzbergen; at another, green
wooded hills, fertile prairies with large herds of cattle grazing,
and arable land in all its luxuriance. Little hamlets on the mountain
sides, villages, châlets nestling mid fir trees and beeches suggest the
picturesque scenery of Switzerland.
The vessel threads her way through the islands, and touches at all the
stations on her route.
The plaintive sound of the siren re-echoes from the mountains, announces
her arrival, and small vessels surround the steamer to receive and
deliver dispatches, to take off passengers and their luggage, and then to
make for their various destinations.
[Illustration: A WHALE.]
The fore-deck is one mass of cases, heaps of bricks, casks, bales, bark,
and articles of every description. With the exception of a few tardy
tourists going from Tromsö to Trondhjem, as it is already late in the
season, passengers seem to change at every station. In some places the
banks on either side are quite near, and it requires all the skill of
the captain to make his way between the beacons, and avoid the numerous
rocks scattered along the course. During the winter the passage is
lighted by the lighthouse, but just now the nights are short, and there
is very little darkness. We pass a great many vessels going through the
Loffoden Islands.
Meals are served in a sumptuous saloon, and the traditional amateur
concert takes place after dinner. The evening is spent in smoking cigars
on deck, where Nature is the leading feature on the programme. The scene
is as full of variety as of surprises.
First the sun, whose immense scarlet disc sinks slowly into the wave,
leaving in its track a fiery horizon. The whole sky is coloured with
tints running the gamut from violet to light grey. Clouds assume
fantastic forms, merge into one another, transform their outlines,
then disappear; then the pale moon appears, and its silvery glimmer is
reflected on the waters.
I stand for hours together in an ecstasy of admiration before these
changing pictures, so little known to Parisians. A few stars are shining
in the firmament; the air is pure, the night calm, and the atmosphere
pleasant.
I can breathe freely and enjoy life. The light breeze, which brings us
the perfumes from the pine woods, is barely enough to stir the surface of
the sea. In the wake of the ship is a long phosphorescent track. Every
turn of the propeller brings me nearer to my country, the main object of
my thoughts.
The _Haakon Jarl_ stayed a few hours at Bodo, a small Scandinavian town,
beginning to show traces of civilization. Doctor Ekelund and I landed.
We were pleased to find some newspapers, in which a meeting of Andrée
and Nansen at Tromsö was referred to, also the Polar voyage chart of the
celebrated Norwegian explorer. We afterwards attended an open-air concert
given by a family of German artists.
During our passage to Torghatten, a small troupe of the Salvation Army
came on board, and amused us a good deal with some of their musical
performances, and their devout, though rather extravagant, practices.
The captain, a respectable lady, with her head concealed at the farther
end of a huge poke-bonnet, which would not be out of place at Madame
Tussaud’s, was gravely seated in a rocking-chair, and presided over the
spiritual concert given by the members of the congregation. The devout
musicians, leaning against a heap of dried cod-fish, sang in more or
less plaintive tunes the praises of the Lord, who doubtless understands
all languages. For my part, I did not understand a single word of these
hymns, but I could judge by the faces of the audience that the music,
which _emollit mores_, did not convince them. It was a wonder we did
not throw them some small change; we expected that one of the pleasant
company would go round, hat in hand, to make a collection for the
expenses of the institution, or for any other more prosaic purpose.
A pretty young girl, of sixteen or seventeen years of age, with her hair
arranged after the fashion of Miss Helyett (doubtless the captain’s
niece), followed in a book, though with a distracted sort of devotion,
the songs of the Salvation Army.
However, the amusements on board were not very numerous, and this was
the chief item, as far as I was concerned, in the passage from Tromsö to
Trondhjem, where the main body of the army awaited their brethren, who
were coming from the North to gain souls for Paradise.
_Thursday, August 27th._—About four p.m. the town of Trondhjem appeared
to be south-east. This is the haven so long wished for, although I have
no right to complain of this latter portion of my voyage, during which no
one suffered from the rolling of the vessel. The largest northern town
in Norway, where the houses and buildings are made entirely of wood, has
really an original appearance, and I sincerely regretted that I could not
make a longer stay; but a few hours afterwards I left my amiable guide,
Dr. Ekelund, and took a quick train on the single-line railway which was
to carry me, within seventeen hours, over the 310 miles that divided me
from Christiania.
The train started with some difficulty, and could only ascend the
first incline with the aid of a locomotive coupled on behind. At last
it proceeded at its normal rate of speed; the line was so bad that my
carriage was shaken terribly. The pinewood structures seemed extremely
fragile, and the bridges thrown over the lakes and streams made one
giddy.
After our two months stay at Spitzbergen, where the vegetable kingdom is
represented by moss and lichen, it was pleasant to come back to verdure,
trees and flowers. Here Nature is displayed in all her splendour, and I
should never tire of admiring the marvellous landscapes, the châlets,
the torrents and the waterfalls which all contribute to the grandeur of
Norwegian scenery.
The farmers gathering in the harvest, the wood-cutters cutting down
trees which they send down from the top of the mountain by the river,
which conveys them to a port where they will be received and either sent
to a saw-mill or shipped on board a trading vessel—all here is life
and movement. What a contrast to the frozen solitudes of Spitzbergen!
Hamar is the terminus of the narrow railway. Here we entered the elegant
carriages that cross to Elsinore; and lastly, a few hours later, we
neared Christiania and descended at full speed such a steep incline that
at each moment we asked ourselves with terror where we should go if the
brakes failed to act.
On getting out at Christiania, we found ourselves in the midst of
civilization. At the station I was assailed by an army of touts, from
whom I only escaped by taking refuge in the fly from the Grand Hotel,
where French is spoken, and where I found a degree of comfort to which I
had become unaccustomed—the refined luxury of great cities. At breakfast
I listened to a concert that would not have been out of place on our
_grands boulevards_. I visited the town, which is very interesting, and
made purchases of furs and articles of which Norway has the monopoly,
various knick-knacks and little trifles that afterwards serve to remind
us of our wanderings. I stayed two hours in Copenhagen, and at last
on Sunday the 30th of August I embarked, at dawn, at the mouth of the
canal at Kiel, on board the mail-boat _Skiruer_, on which I made my last
passage. All the passengers on the boat were on deck to see the German
fleet which was drawn up at this station. Twenty ironclads, a great many
despatch-boats and torpedo-boats lying at the entrance of the canal
excited great curiosity; moreover the spectacle was new to me as well as
to most of the passengers, and it is not one that can be seen every day.
[Illustration: DEPARTURE FOR A HUNTING EXPEDITION.]
At last I arrived at Hamburg and came on to Paris, passing through
Cologne and Liège.
The polar balloon was returned to me a little while after, to be kept
until the time when M. Andrée should start on his expedition.
By my advice, Andrée agreed that I should increase the volume of his
balloon as much as possible by adding to its equator two zones of silk of
treble thickness, thus bringing the cubic measurement of the balloon to
about 176,582 feet. The result of this addition was an increase in the
ascending power of nearly 650 lbs., which is not to be despised.
The outer envelope was then re-varnished inside and out, and, the
repairing being completed, the balloon was sent off towards the end of
April, 1897, to Gothenburg to be shipped on board the _Svensksund_.
Andrée’s new companions, M. Fraenkel, acting member, and M. Svedenborg,
assistant, came to Paris in the spring[1] to go through a course of
balloon practice. They made a series of ascents for practice from the
aerostatic park at Vaugirard in the “Nobel” and the “Fram,” under the
direction of Messrs. Machuron, Lair and myself.
Notwithstanding my desire to revisit the polar regions, I gave up my
place to my nephew and collaborator, who, more fortunate than myself,
witnessed the departure of the balloon.
Awaiting the return of the courageous explorers, I conclude the account
of this voyage which will constitute an epoch in my life and will leave
behind it ineffaceable memories.
HENRI LACHAMBRE.
PARIS, _October 14th, 1897_.
[1] As Strindberg did last year.
SECOND PART
I
Departure of the Second Expedition
On the 18th of May the town of Gothenburg prepared to witness the
second departure of the Polar Expedition. On the quays of the port the
inhabitants assembled in crowds testified to Andrée their admiration for
his ever memorable undertaking.
The rebuffs he experienced last year had not shaken his faith; he still
stood firm, and was still the same, with his eagle eye and his iron will.
Notwithstanding his modesty, Andrée could not help being moved by the
enthusiastic manifestations that were showered upon him. His perseverance
disarmed the most sceptical. The good wishes of everybody followed him
and his companions. People at last understood that this innovator is a
man.
At six p.m. the _Svensksund_, which had no other decoration than the
national flag, weighed anchor amidst the tumultuous acclamations of the
public. Most of the ships were decorated with flags and saluted the
_Svensksund_ as she passed them.
We rapidly left them behind.
As was the case last year, a number of vessels laden to the water’s edge
crowded round the port. Some filled with friends and relations of the
explorers accompanied us as far as the open sea, where the last adieux
were said. One boat came alongside and took the telegrams which we wished
to send to our families and friends.
Soon the shores of Sweden, gilded by the rays of a beautiful sunset,
gradually disappeared from the horizon, and we were steaming along on the
open sea at full speed.
The _Svensksund_ is a Swedish gun-boat of 300 tons, solidly built, which
in winter renders great service to merchant vessels by cutting passages
through the ice, with which the port of Gothenburg is blocked during the
period of frost.
[Illustration: 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.
[Illustration: 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.