Part 7

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.

We crossed the limit of the Arctic circle, and the event was celebrated by drinking champagne. In the evening the sky became overcast, and a fine, light rain began to fall; later on, at a few hours’ journey from Tromsö, we had some heavy falls of snow, followed by gleams of sunshine, which reminded me of our snowstorms in France. But on entering the port of Tromsö there was a blinding fall of snow, and the _Svensksund_ had to grope its way in, as it was impossible to see our course. At last, at 11 p.m., we cast anchor, and received a visit from the harbour-master, who brought us a voluminous packet of letters, telegrams, and newspapers. I received news from France that gave me great pleasure. This was the last port at which we should touch, as we were then going direct to Spitzbergen, where we should receive no communications for several weeks.

_May 25th._—The snow-fall continues. The inhabitants of Tromsö declared that it was a favourable omen for Andrée, and augured well for his success, for at the time of Nansen’s visit, in 1893, a great deal of snow fell, which was a rare occurrence at that time of the year.

We went through the town, and much admired a number of little villas surrounded by clusters of trees, which reminded us of the sunny slopes of Meudon.

The town was very lively and very busy. Ladies and young girls, most elegantly dressed, were walking about the streets, and also fishermen, sailors, etc. We even met a cyclist. Where shall we find the limit of the bicycle? I was astonished to see one in a country that has no practicable roads and very few fine days.

Below, on the sea, were docks built on piles; a little port where about fifty fishing boats were lying. Further out was a mail-boat arriving from Trondhjem.

We visited the Museum, which contains all kinds of animals and birds belonging to the polar regions, teams of reindeer, Esquimaux huts, arms, and fishing tackle of the most remote periods. All the houses in Tromsö are built of wood, and one wonders what would be left of the town if a fire should ever break out. Every year tribes of Laplanders come from the North to exchange goods with the traders; they bring chiefly skins of reindeer, foxes, wolves, and white bears, and many articles made of bone and reindeer’s horns, which are always carved with representations of polar animals.

Later on, on July 2nd, on our return from Spitzbergen, we had the opportunity of visiting, at a few leagues from Tromsö, an encampment of these interesting nomads.

The excursion was organized and directed by our friend, Lieutenant Norselius. The party consisted of Dr. Lembke, Lieutenant Svedenborg, the engineer, Stake, and myself. Herr Aagaard, the brother of the Consul of Tromsö, was kind enough to accompany us. As he knew a few words of the Lapp language, he offered to act as interpreter. Some of the crew went with us.

I will not dwell here on the customs of these people, as they have already been described in several works. The Laplanders are very friendly and peaceably inclined towards strangers.

In our honour they collected their reindeer together, a herd of 400 to 500, which were feeding on a mountain in the distance. A chief, who was provided with a little telescope, used it skilfully to follow the movements of this great herd, which was driven by only two children and a few dogs. We saw these animals on a distant slope, all collected together, and advancing towards us like a swarm of ants in motion. A hill hid them from us for about half an hour; they then reappeared at a distance of a few hundred yards, in the midst of a few scattered shrubs. The herd approached; their horns, which are very large, kept interlacing, freeing themselves, and then becoming entangled with the shrubs which were shaken by the compact and moving mass. It seemed like a moving forest. A fenced enclosure is set apart for the animals. When they had to be driven into their pen, a Laplander approached the head of the herd, caught one of the reindeer with the aid of a lasso, which he used as skilfully as the hunters of the Pampas, and then pulled it in, ringing a bell.

The effect was then most curious. The attention of the rest of the herd was attracted to the captive which they followed at a distance, step by step, hesitating, and advancing as if under the influence of some peculiar fascination. The whole herd was thus enticed into the enclosure, the outlet of which was then shut.

The captive reindeer which led the others in was then released, and great excitement seemed to prevail amongst all the animals. About a dozen of them got on to a little mound in the middle of the enclosure, and remained there the prisoners of the others who kept walking round them. This performance lasted for more than half an hour. In the meantime some of the Laplanders, armed with lassos, caught some of the does in order to milk them, and the whole herd was then set at liberty. The reindeer dispersed into the thickets, quickly climbed the mountain, and soon disappeared from view. We bought a few trifles from these people, who are very honest in their dealings, and at the same time very business-like. They lose no opportunity of doing a stroke of business; they even demanded payment if they were photographed, and if this was refused, they tried to screen themselves from our cameras. The instantaneous process dismayed them very much.

After having left the camp of the Laplanders, on our return to the seashore, our curiosity was attracted by an enormous whale, which had been brought to the beach to be cut up. This mammal, which was not less than 70 feet long, had been killed a few days before in the Northern Seas.

II

Arrival at Spitzbergen

_May 26th._—We were waiting in the port of Tromsö for news of the _Virgo_, which had left Gothenburg two days after us, on May 20th.

The day before, the _Svensksund_ had laid in a stock of provisions and coal. On the after-deck a large cage had been made for the reception of some sheep. We also took a great many fowls on board, so that we should be provided with fresh meat during our stay at Spitzbergen, as a change from tinned provisions.

As we had not received any news of the _Virgo_, we left Tromsö at 3 p.m. to go and meet her at an appointed place. A splendid day cheered our hearts, and most of the inhabitants of the town came running along the quays, and cheered the _Svensksund_ as she departed.

The captain then had a cask hoisted on to the top of the foremast, in which the look-out man, who had orders to give notice of any passing vessel amongst the floating ice, took up his station.

After this had been done, warm clothes were distributed amongst the crew. Each received large boots, a fur hood, gloves, etc. Our sailors seemed quite delighted with their new outfit.

At five o’clock we arrived at the appointed place, but the _Virgo_ was not there. We accordingly took shelter in a bay whilst waiting for her.

The next day, May 27th, having awoke at 3 o’clock in the morning, I went on shore with Lieutenant Svedenborg. We went hunting over the mountains, amidst boulders of rock and deep ravines. We saw very little vegetation; a few scattered bushes of prickly shrubs, putting forth a few miserable shoots; a great deal of moss and grass in the damp parts surrounding the pools formed by the melting snow. Many springs swelled the streams, which formed numerous waterfalls on their way down to the sea. We brought down several birds, but lost some eiders, for these birds, when wounded and pursued, dive to reappear no more. They hide their bodies from their foe, perishing at the bottom of the sea by entangling themselves in the seaweed.

The _Virgo_ joined us at 2 p.m. Her captain came on board for instructions. At 6 o’clock we weighed anchor, and set out for Spitzbergen. Andrée hoped that we should get there quickly, and without hindrance. The north north-east wind which had been blowing violently for some days, would, he thought, drive away the floes of ice from the coast of Greenland.

For three days we were tormented by a strong north wind, which blew a gale. The sea was very rough. I was ill, and could eat nothing for two days—a victim to sea-sickness. However, I got up in the evening of May 30th. The vibrations of the vessel were then imperceptible to me. I was surprised at first, and then pleased. I seemed to be waking from a bad dream.

Our boat rolled terribly, with sudden movements due to its flat shape—movements which were all the more frequent owing to the waves being very choppy in the northern seas. I could not, in spite of myself, help thinking of the smooth and easy motion of our transatlantic liners, where one is quite at one’s ease.

I was astonished, on arriving on deck, to see the mountains that fringe Spitzbergen, and to hear that in three hours we should reach Dansk-Gatt, a strait between Dane’s Island and the Island of Amsterdam, to the north-west of Spitzbergen, in latitude 79° 43´.

The _Virgo_ followed us at some distance; she too rolled a great deal. The wind was high and cold; some blocks of ice floated here and there, but not many. By a fortunate circumstance the Arctic Ocean was quite free. Andrée had predicted that it would be so, and he was pleased to see that he would lose no time this year. Nevertheless, those who had never visited these shores were somewhat deceived; they had expected to be encountering icebergs, and meeting with unheard-of difficulties. In fact they looked for something very different to ordinary voyages, something which would keep constantly before their minds the fact that they were in the Frozen Ocean.

Our wishes were soon granted; the prevailing north-east wind had driven the ice floes into the open sea; the ice round the coast, being sheltered by the mountains, remained, and the entrance to the Dansk-Gatt was quite blocked up.

We had to slacken our speed; the vessels could only cut a passage through, pushing before them blocks of scattered ice driven one against another, and breaking with a loud report, terrifying the various polar birds and disturbing the siesta of various seals, which quickly dive and disappear behind other floes.

I took some photographs, the success of which was doubtful, as it snowed fast. Fortunately we were quite close to Virgo Bay, and after an hour of slow, winding, and difficult progress, going round large masses of ice that could not be driven aside, we perceived the balloon shed; it was still standing! To the right was Pike House half-hidden by snow.

We each provided ourselves with a telescope or field-glass. The shed especially occupied our attention; it had suffered some damage, we noticed an alteration in it, but at that distance it was impossible to ascertain the extent of the injury.

As we slowly approached the coast, we took soundings every minute, and at last, at 6 p.m., the captain gave the order to stop. The anchors were cast, as we should probably remain there some time; only about a hundred yards separated us from the shore.

The _Virgo_, which should have followed us closely in order to profit by the passage made by the _Svensksund_, remained some distance behind; she seemed to be impeded by the ice and advanced very slowly. She pushed along for another hour before casting her anchor. Less fortunate than we were, her screw, which had neither the flexibility nor the resistance of ours, had been sorely damaged by the ice.

The various emotions produced by this eventful voyage and the keen air of Spitzbergen had sharpened all our appetites. Lieutenant Celsing ordered us a grand dinner, washed down with good wine and champagne, to celebrate our arrival at Dane’s Island. I own that, for my part, I did justice to it, after having been so severely tried by the sea.

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

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

III

Preparations at Dane’s Island

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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