Part 8

Strindberg made the ascent of a neighbouring hill situated to the west of the place occupied by our ship. At the summit, 656 feet above the sea-level, he fixed a mast, on which was placed an apparatus for observing the direction of the wind. This ingenious instrument consists of a vane carrying with it in its movements a horizontal disc divided into eight equal sectors. On the outer circumference, at the points of division, are fixed vertically the figures from 1 to 8, cut into plates of copper. The diameter 1-5 falls in the vertical plane of the vane, and figure 5 always faces the wind. It is easy by means of a compass to determine the direction from any point from which we can read the figures of the disc. It is sufficient to observe the angle that is made with the magnetic meridian by the visual radius, going to the number facing you, and to deduce from it by a very simple calculation the angle of the line 1-5, _i.e._, the angle of the direction of the wind with the north. For instance, supposing we are to the east of the post of observation, and number 3 is facing us, number 5, which always faces the wind, will be at the north, the point from which the wind comes. Every day the explorers, by turns, every four hours, made meteorological observations. All the instruments were examined, and the results carefully noted. Strindberg set up a tent on the shore, where he spent several hours a day taking magnetic observations.

Work was suspended during June 6th and 7th for the Whitsuntide holidays.

Every one sought for some amusement to pass the time; some of the sailors found one, which was somewhat rough. They ascended a hill covered with snow situated behind the shed; on arriving at the summit they slid down, toboggan fashion, from a height of 656 feet, each trying to make a record speed. This game was not without its comic side; often one of the men lost his position, rolling over and over to the bottom; fortunately in the snow there was no danger.

On June 8th all the little colony went back to work; the weather was fine, with a north wind that piled up the ice round the ships. The greater number of light packages were, however, unloaded, but there was still heavy luggage which could not be moved.

On June 9th one of the gas generators was taken off, a large wooden tank lined with lead, which had to be handled with care, its own weight rendering it fragile. After it had been let down into a boat, a passage was with difficulty cut for it through the ice to the shore.

The next day other parts of the gas apparatus, no less bulky, were taken off the _Virgo_; the difficulties attending their unloading were still greater than before. Armed with ice-picks, some of the sailors tried to break up the smaller pieces; others, provided with saws made specially for the purpose, attacked enormous masses. The boat advanced very slowly, but this extra work involved an expenditure of precious time.

At last by the evening of that day all the parts of the gas apparatus were landed. The engineer, Stake, assisted by the mechanics, proceeded to fix it up. Before this could be done, it was necessary to clear away an enormous quantity of snow which occupied the space allotted to this installation, and which, when swept in a circle round it, formed a regular enclosure, a temporary fortification.

_June 11th._—Strindberg and Fraenkel turned their attention to the carrier pigeons, and, with the aid of india-rubber wafers, fixed to the wing and tail feathers several labels bearing the following inscriptions:—

“ANDRÉE.”

_Aftonbladet._

“STOCKHOLM.”

The pigeons, moreover, were numbered consecutively; their destination was the office of the _Aftonbladet_, and they came from a dove-cot situated at Maréchamm, belonging to M. Uno Godenhejlm, formerly a post-master.

I gave myself up on this day to the study of a sport which is quite Scandinavian, the “ski” (snow-shoes); Strindberg kindly gave me both theoretical and practical lessons. After many tumbles on snowy slopes, my course of instruction was completed; I only needed practice. This agreeable mode of locomotion is very useful for making long journeys over the snow.

I employed part of the day in making a fox-trap, consisting simply of a box closed on one side by a metal grating, and on the other by a sliding door. This latter would close automatically when the animal touched it, a bird fastened to the bottom of the cage serving as a bait. In the evening I tried the sledges which were to be taken in the balloon. I harnessed myself to one of them, and took my trap half a league away to the hills, where I set it so as to be able to observe it from the _Svensksund_, whence I could see by means of a telescope when the door of the cage was shut.

I had not long to wait; the next morning the cage was closed. I went up to the mountain, and soon perceived through the grating of the cage a cunning little head and two bright eyes, which were attentively watching all my movements.

The prisoner was a young fox; there were several species of them at Spitzbergen. We had already seen three kinds: one was a fine glossy black, another silvery white, and a third had yellow and brown spots. The little captive belonged to this last category. Seeing himself discovered, my fox darted against the grating, growling at my approach and showing his pretty little sharp teeth. With many precautions, putting my hands through the bars of the cage, I succeeded in muzzling him and in tying his paws together with cords. Having thus made it impossible for him to do any harm, I led him over the snow to Pike House, where my arrival with my prisoner at the end of a long string excited much curiosity and caused considerable mirth.

I hoped to take this young fox back to France. He was put in a cage, where he received many visits from persons interested; one of the latter not having closed the door with sufficient care, the Spitzbergen fox, in no way inferior to those of our own country in point of cunning, succeeded in opening it and recovered his liberty. He was even seen to pause ironically for a few moments in front of the balloon shed, where the changes that had been made seemed to interest him.

IV

The Landing and Preparation of the Balloon—The Inflation

_June 12th._—Two weeks had elapsed since our arrival at Dane’s Island. The work connected with the shed had been pressed forward, and as Andrée had announced, the shed was ready to receive the balloon. A large canvas tent, made in eight equal sections, was fixed over its entire circumference half-way up the shed; it was drawn up in the centre by the aid of pulleys connected with the top of the building. We were thus comfortably sheltered from snow or rain whilst getting the balloon ready.

The unloading of the _Virgo_ was finished, and the ship was ready to start as soon as the ice should disperse. We went on board to drink coffee and take a parting glass of punch.

_June 13th._—On Sunday we had arranged to take a trip with the steam launch, but it was impossible to leave our prison; the north wind, which had blown with more violence during the last few days, had brought us enormous blocks of ice, detached from the ice-field and from the glaciers. Strindberg and I took several photographs of the floating ice, which occupied our whole day.

The _Virgo_ still a prisoner.

_June 14th._—We could not wait any longer and lose the advantage of our hard work; the case containing the balloon had to be landed.

This enormous package, weighing no less than 4,409 lbs., was pretty easily let down from the ship on to a boat; the great difficulty was to get it on land, although the distance to be traversed scarcely exceeded a hundred and twenty yards.

The streams left between the ice were too narrow, and sometimes they were even completely blocked up.

Lieutenant Norselius, at the head of a band of picked men, directed the operations. The picks and saws did their work, widening the narrow streams into which the boat was pushed along the cleared space, until a fresh obstacle was encountered. It was a real wall of ice with which we had to deal now; ice-picks and saws were powerless to open a path. Lieutenant Norselius thought of an ingenious plan, which he at once put into execution. With the aid of a dynamite cartridge carefully laid, he succeeded in breaking into small pieces this portion of the ice-field; it was then easy to part the pieces of ice, and the boat slowly advanced, but the surrounding pieces, which had been held back by the larger mass, drew together, and the boat was caught between them and then lifted up; the case leant over on one side and threatened to fall over. Some of the sailors hung on to the other side, trying to restore its equilibrium, whilst others pulled or pushed the boat, which was still blocked up. The case was tied with cables, one end of which was connected with the ship and the other with the shore, then the whole party harnessed themselves to a third rope, trying by their united efforts to start the boat. At last we felt it move; it was a moment of anxiety for us all; then it glided unchecked over the ice into an open space, once more narrowly escaping being capsized with its burden. Happily some of the sailors had time to hang on to the end of a long pole laid across the top of the case, and with the help of the cables, equilibrium was preserved.

Our fears then dispersed, all serious obstacles were surmounted, and the rest of the work was easy. A few more hours of toil and patience, and after a whole day’s labour the balloon was at length landed.

Every one was glad to see her in safety after the dangers she has passed through. Andrée warmly thanked Lieutenant Norselius for the zeal and skill he had displayed in this difficult operation.

_June 15th._—The balloon case, which had been left on the bank on the previous evening, had now to be conveyed to the shed erected a few yards higher up. The first part of the distance was soon covered, as the case is dragged over greased timbers laid down in the snow; the remainder of the journey was rendered difficult by the huge stones by which the route is obstructed. These difficulties, however, were as nothing compared with those of last night, and the case was soon got below the shed, and afterwards hoisted on to the flooring.

A few hours later the balloon was stretched and the folds spread out. It was in perfect condition; the apertures were closed up with discs consisting of wood, or with false valves; it was then partially inflated with air with a very simple inflator designed by Andrée, but the process was a very lengthy one, as the inflator was very feeble.

_June 16th._—I spent the day inside the balloon, where, with the help of ten seamen, I put another coat of varnish on the seams.

The _Virgo_, which has been waiting four days in her prison of ice, can at last start to-day; in fact, her time is up, for she must be at Tromsö before the 20th of June, otherwise Andrée will have to pay a heavy fine for every day’s delay.

It took two days to re-varnish the seams. On the 18th of June all the air in the balloon was let out so as to prepare for the inflation by gas; the net is again placed over it, and the valves inserted. The inflating tubes are brought under the floor of the shed and connected with the nozzle through an opening made in the centre of the floor. The inflation by gas began at seven on the morning of the 19th of June.

Stake, the engineer, is superintending the manufacture of the hydrogen. It is produced by the action of sulphuric acid diluted with water on iron. The acid, the strength of which is 60°, is brought in iron drums, each containing 220 lbs. We have 176,369 lbs. of it, and 66,138 lbs. would suffice to inflate the balloon.

The gas apparatus was constructed at Stockholm from well-known designs. The acid is raised, by means of a hand pump, into a mixing tank “C,” made to hold 2,817 pints, and meanwhile water is introduced which reduces the contents to a solution representing about 16°.

The acidulated compound passes thence into two lead-lined generators “G,” containing the iron, which is dropped in as required through a hopper placed half-way up, and closed with a hydraulic joint. The iron shavings put into the outside part of this hopper are pushed down, thus forcing the shavings in the inner part into the generator. Each generator is closed by a lid with a hydraulic joint. The apparatus is freed from the mud deposited at the bottom by means of a self-closing cock.

The hydrogen produced by this reaction passes into a purifier “L,” filled with coke, and provided with a tapering grate; through this grate the gas makes its way into the washing compartment, and passes through the column of coke in which is circulating the water that falls from the rose attached to the top.

The overflow runs away through a pipe at “U” at the bottom of the apparatus. A steam-pump feeds the purifier and the mixing tank with sea-water, which, by the way, is quite suitable for this process.

On leaving the purifier the hydrogen traverses a chamber “H,” from which two tubes lead to the dryers “S”; these dryers consist of rectangular boxes containing purifying materials and quicklime laid on a grating near the bottom.

Before being conveyed into the balloon the gas thus prepared passes through two testing chambers “E,” each of which contains a thermometer, a hygrometer, and some litmus-paper; glass sight-holes are provided to facilitate inspection.

Pressure gauges fixed in various positions show the pressure of the gas current.

This voluminous apparatus is capable of producing 5,297 to 7,000 cubic feet of gas per hour, but Andrée will not allow the output to exceed 2,118 cubic feet per hour, his object being to secure a gas which has had ample time for proper washing and purifying.

_June 20th._—During the first twenty-four hours about 42,379 cubic feet of gas were generated.

Andrée and Fraenkel are busy to-day superintending the inflation of the balloon; the rest are preparing for a trip northwards with the steam-barge commanded by Lieutenant Norselius.

They propose reaching Red Bay, to the N.E. of Spitzbergen, near 80° parallel.

We left Virgo Bay at nine in the morning, and steered to the north along the coast of Smeerenburg. As we went along the guns brought down several birds. At one o’clock we were at Red Bay, which was one immense ice plain reaching up to the islands at the entrance to the bay. It was on one of these islands, not shown in any polar chart, that we landed and scared away a flock of eiders and a fox which was lying in ambush for them.

From our position we commanded a full view of the entire expanse of the gulf.

Here nature presents a wilder aspect than we have ever seen her under. The bay opens out towards the north.

East and west the bay is flanked with lofty mountains whose summits are lost in the fog; wide fissures afford shelter to enormous numbers of birds of various species, who build their nests at different altitudes. Some perch on the sharp edges of the rock, while others describe huge curves or shoot along after the manner of birds of prey. We noticed some wild geese, some goelands, the “king of the algæ,” the auk, and others, all filling the air with sharp piercing cries, deafening one with their fiendish concert.

About six and a half miles to the south, and forming the background to the gulf, a gigantic glacier, indented with crevices, rises like a mighty wall. The glacier is lit by a few rays of the sun filtering through a curtain of fog, and reflects them in tints of blue.

We take a long look at this great pale-looking expanse imperceptibly gliding towards the sea, impelled by a slow and mysterious force, while from it huge ice tracts are always breaking away and crashing down with a roar that seems like an earthquake.

It would be interesting to make the tour of Red Bay, but we are short of time, and we ought to be provided with snow-shoes to carry us over the snow which covers the ice. We saw in the snow very recent footprints of bears, but we vainly searched the horizon with our glasses. Bruin was invisible.

After a frugal repast on a rock in the open air, we made ready for our return. A cold, chilling fog settled down on the sea and enveloped us for two hours. We were very anxious to get back on board the _Svensksund_ to warm ourselves once more, for we had not brought any warm clothing.

_June 21st and 22nd._—The inflation of the balloon still progressing. As it fills we re-varnish the outside seams.

Meantime, Andrée is preparing and fitting out the car, adjusting the suspension ring and the rope attachments. On the other hand, Strindberg, Fraenkel and Svedenborg are busy coating the guide-ropes with a compound of grease and vaseline.

To save time in the work to be done when starting, the carpenters are demolishing the upper portion of the shed on the north side, as Andrée thinks this useless.

V

Amusements at Spitzbergen—Testing the Gas-Tightness of the Balloon—Arrival of the Vessels _Express_ and _Lofoten_

The inflation of the balloon was completed on the 22nd of June at midnight. The dome can be seen above the shed; our balloon is now only awaiting a suitable moment for launching forth into space.

Next morning two Swedish flags float triumphantly over the shed. But before a start can be made, many minor matters still remain to be attended to, small details which always take up a very long time, and to-day work was stopped at noon. In compliance with Swedish custom we have been celebrating the eve of the feast of St. John, one of the most important Scandinavian festivals.

Time hangs heavily during these days of rest. Amusements are rare, and but little varied at Spitzbergen. The sailors themselves are compelled to forego one of their favourite sports; the snow on the mountains having partly melted, has laid bare large sharp-edged stones, among which it would be dangerous to practise tobogganing. However, they have found another amusement. On the summit of a neighbouring mountain rising up almost in a peak, which they succeed in climbing, they displace enormous pieces of rock, and these roll down dragging with them an avalanche of stone, accompanied by prolonged and deafening sounds which are re-echoed, like the rolling of thunder; and thus do our sailors amuse themselves.

We are no less limited than the sailors in our choice of amusements in these deserted regions, far away from all that makes life seem worth living. We are longing for our nearest and dearest; it is now a month since we became exiles.

Absorbed by vague thoughts, my looks mechanically tend towards the open sea, hoping to descry a sail coming to call on us and bring us news from home. But the horizon is bare, except that here and there a few icebergs are floating on the waves.

All around us, mountains, barren rocks, snow, and glaciers; no vegetation to gladden our sight, nothing but a few varieties of moss bearing tiny white, violet, and yellow flowers; the yellow ones, larger than the rest, resemble very much the butter-cups, with which our meadows are dotted in spring. The flora is excessively poor in these icy regions. What a contrast to the luxuriant vegetation of Brazil, the rich and prolific nature of which country I was admiring three years ago, being then engaged on a mission on behalf of the Brazilian Military Authorities!

In order to overcome the melancholy which seems to come over me to-night, I am glad to start with Fraenkel on a boating excursion. We take some provisions with us, and at nine o’clock we set off hap-hazard, in glorious sunshine. We shoot some birds, chiefly eider-geese. Near the Albert Isle, in the Smeerenburg, a group of seals, disporting themselves on the ice, attracts our attention. It is impossible to get near them by water; we therefore alight and drag our boat up on to the ice. But the wary animals plunge under as soon as we approach. It is no use waiting for them over their holes, as the seal will travel a long way under water, in order to re-emerge some hundreds of yards away from the place where it dives. It then proceeds to make a fresh hole; with its breath alone, emitted and inhaled repeatedly, it can pierce masses of this ice, measuring at least a yard in thickness.

Not far from the place where the seals disappeared, there is an opening free from ice; we decide, at all events, to wait some minutes on the brink of this pond. Two of the seals appear, and are at once greeted by us with bullets; the water is dyed red with blood over a large expanse, but the two animals, though wounded in the head, have strength enough left to dive under the ice, there to die.

Baffled in this attempt, we return to our boat and continue our trip in the Smeerenburg in a south-easterly direction; we wish to reach the glaciers haunted by bears, but a thick fog surprises us on our way and stops our progress. We have no compass; in order to get back and avoid losing ourselves in the fog we are obliged to follow the coast-line, which considerably increases the distance to be covered. Objects are beginning to assume fantastic forms in the fog. At one part of the coast which I know perfectly well, having roamed over it several times, a rock of from sixteen to nineteen feet high appears to us a mountain of respectable dimensions; further on, the ice round the coast is about six feet above the water, and this looks to us like a colossal glacier; then we come across some eider-geese, which animals seem to assume awful dimensions, appearing to us about thirty-two feet high. Finally, becoming more and more subject to these curious effects of optical illusion, taking small blocks of ice for enormous icebergs, we imagine we can identify a walrus in a moving mass which appears to be the size of a small whale: we approach the animal, whose true nature we recognise when its size still appears to be thirteen or sixteen feet—it is a small bird of the size of a pigeon.

After several hours of a dispiriting journey made in the damp and penetrating cold, tossed to and fro by the waves, which have become very rough, while the water, lashed by a contrary wind, is constantly dashing in our faces, we arrive near Virgo Bay at the very moment when the fog commences to clear, and with it these phantasmagoric effects gradually disappear.

We feel as if we had awakened from a hideous nightmare, and are glad to see the sun once more, shedding its warm rays upon us.

We return on board the _Svensksund_ at 6 a.m., after roaming about on the sea for nine hours, and just at the time when all on board are waking up.

We celebrate St. John’s day as far as we can under the circumstances; at night a copious dinner is served, and we are much astonished at seeing such a variety of dishes set before us, although more than a month has elapsed since we last renewed supplies; this is a surprise reserved for us by Lieut. Celsing, who acts as steward on board our craft.

_June 25th._—A most pleasant awakening: a sailor puts into my hands a parcel of letters and journals—news from France. None but they who have had the experience of being separated from their nearest and dearest, far from their native land, in a dull and desolate region like Spitzbergen, can ever know the joy experienced when a chance mail unexpectedly brings news from those one holds most dear.