Part 6

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XII

The Storm

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

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

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

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

XIII

My last Night on the _Virgo_

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XIV

The Return

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HENRI LACHAMBRE.

PARIS, _October 14th, 1897_.

[1] As Strindberg did last year.

SECOND PART

I

Departure of the Second Expedition

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

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

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

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

We rapidly left them behind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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