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 7⅘ 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.
[Illustration: THE MEMBERS OF THE EXPEDITION.]
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.
[Illustration: ON THE BRIDGE OF THE _SVENSKSUND_: MESSRS. FRAENKEL,
ANDRÉE, SVEDENBORG, AND STRINDBERG.]
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.
[Illustration: K. FRAENKEL.]
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.
[Illustration: VIEW OF THE BALLOON TAKEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER ITS
DEPARTURE.]
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:—
“SPITZBERGEN, _July 11th_, 2.25 p.m.
“At the moment of their departure, the members of the
expedition to the North Pole beg Your Majesty to accept their
very humble salutations, and the assurance of their deepest
gratitude.
“ANDRÉE.”
Another telegram, addressed to the _Aftonbladet_, Stockholm, said:—
“In accordance with our decision previously arrived at, we
commenced on Sunday, at 10.45, the preparations for our ascent,
and at this moment, 2.30 p.m., we are ready to start.
“We shall probably be driven in a north-north-easterly
direction. We hope gradually to reach regions where the winds
will be more favourable to us.
“In the name of all our comrades, I send our warmest regards to
our friends, and to our country!
“ANDRÉE.”
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.