Читать книгу Andrée and His Balloon - henri alexis lachambre - Страница 8

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I left Paris on the night of the 2nd of June, 1896, to accompany Andrée and his companions to Spitzbergen, as had been arranged. My mind was much taken up with speculations as to the ultimate fate of the expedition, and the responsibility I had undertaken weighed rather heavily upon me.

Without stopping at the various stages of my journey, Cologne, Hamburg, and Copenhagen, though all of them very interesting towns, I arrived at Gothenburg, where I was received by Captain Andrée, brother of the explorer; and although much fatigued by forty hours’ railway and boat travelling, my first visit was to the good ship Virgo, which was to be my home for several months, and convey me towards the northern regions.

Andrée, who left nothing to chance, had chosen his vessel well, and his brother superintended her loading and equipment.

When I arrived work was proceeding with feverish activity, and it is almost impossible to conceive the quantity of goods which were stowed away in this small vessel of 300 tons. I was present at the embarkation of the barrows of sulphuric acid which had been brought from England.

We have a select crew, composed almost entirely of engineering students from the technical school of Stockholm, and officers who have taken berths as ordinary sailors in order to follow the expedition; one can see that there will be no more lack of brave and generous hearts than of scientific heads.

On the morning of the 5th of June, the three explorers arrived from Stockholm. At night a grand fête brought us together at Baron Dickson’s, one of the generous promoters of the enterprise.

Saturday evening, 6th of June.—Popular fête at Lorensburg Park; numerous speeches and enthusiastic toasts; reading of telegrams and kind wishes for the success of the expedition. The tables are adorned with magnificent bouquets of natural flowers enclosed in pyramids of ice. The effect is most picturesque, and this is certainly an idea which has never yet suggested itself, as far as I know, to the minds of the managers of our great culinary establishments; I now give them the benefit thereof. What can be more attractive than the picture of flowers and chandelier-lights reflected in these miniature icebergs?

Sunday, June 7th.—I arrived at the port at 8 a.m. The Virgo has been dressed in her gala bunting; her masts are resplendent with many-hued streamers. At the stern proudly floats the splendid silk flag presented by the ladies of Gothenburg. The deck is adorned with flowers and ribbons; I am touched at the sight of my national colours.

All the vessels in port are dressed with bunting, and crammed with spectators. An army of photographers, who all have their cameras pointed at the Virgo, are preparing to immortalize the vessel as she now appears.

The launches and all the boats, large and small, are making the Virgo their rendezvous. The rest of the population is on the quays and the neighbouring buildings.

M. Vieillard, a friend, who came to accompany me, left me at nine o’clock; we arranged to meet at Spitzbergen.

I saluted Baron Dickson, his daughter and his niece, who were on the quay. His son came to the Virgo to shake hands, and wish me a good voyage.

The three explorers also arrived with their friends crowding round them. The partings were very touching, and the emotion, in which all present shared, reached its height when precisely at ten o’clock the signal for starting was sounded.

The Virgo is slowly moving.

The enthusiasm becomes indescribable. An immense hurrah, four times repeated, is volleyed from every panting breast. Handkerchiefs and hats are waved frantically, the cheers burst forth with redoubled vigour. Andrée, Ekholm, and Strindberg, appear at the bulwarks with their bouquets and their ribbons: they signal their adieux and acknowledge ours.

THE FIRST FLOATING ICEBERGS.

Then we, too, have our share in this grand and most impressive manifestation.

The flag of the Virgo dips by way of salute, and then rises again, and at this moment the cortége of vessels and boats forms up around our vessel, which has progressed a little towards the open sea.

Something like a hundred boats follow in our wake. On several of them bands are playing, and a regular procession commences. Those who have no boats follow along the quays; it is a veritable tide of human beings.

A few inevitable collisions occurred between some of the impetuous small craft, but most happily no serious accident is to be regretted.

The sun is shining gloriously; the sky, too, has put on its festive garb, and seems desirous of encouraging the bold explorers leaving for the conquest of the North Pole.

We are now out in the open sea.

At one o’clock we are assembled on the quarter-deck, and the introductions commence:—

Herr Andrée, former pupil of the higher technical school of Stockholm, Director of the Patent Office, and commander of the expedition;

Herr Ekholm, doctor of natural philosophy, chief of the Meteorological Office of Stockholm;

Herr Strindberg, former student of Upsala University, second master at the Free University of Stockholm;

Herr Svante Arrhénius, hydrographer, chief of the Stockholm University, professor of natural philosophy;

Herr Grumberg, naturalist, master at the Stockholm University, higher school;

Dr. Carl Ekelund, physician to the expedition;

Captain Hugo Zachau, commander of the Virgo, which ordinarily plies between Gothenburg and Hull.

Nor must we forget the stewardess Charlotte, a complaisant Swede, wearing a coquettish little white toque, of the comic-opera style, trimmed with a pretty ribbon bearing the badge of the expedition. This charming person made me three pretty curtsies, and an acquaintance was soon formed between us. It is she who will wait on us at table. She seems much at her ease on board the Virgo, and she has better sea-legs than I have. She has made a napkin ring with ribbons for each of us; mine bears the French colours. She is, moreover, very amusing. There is also the cook, who excels in the preparation of omelettes aux anchois—but I must not anticipate.

After the introductions we taste the brandy and whisky; we drink toasts for the success of the polar expedition; then several speeches are made. At three o’clock we assemble for dinner in the dining saloon. The captain does the honours at the table; he is a jolly amphitryon, and robust both physically and morally. The meal passed off very gaily.

I was seated near Strindberg and Professor Arrhénius, with whom I can speak in my own language, and also learn a few words of Swedish. This, in fact, is simply by way of retaliation, as I have been appointed “professor of the French language” by acclamation.

We take our coffee on deck, smoking delicious Havannahs presented to the expedition. Gently cradled by the waves, I abandon myself to revery. How many things I have seen since my departure, and how far away from home I am already! Nevertheless, I have only reached the first stage, and much excitement is still in store for me.

I have taken possession of my cabin, which adjoins the kitchen and dining saloon, and am settling down there as comfortably as possible, but not without difficulty, as the place allotted to me is very small.

At eight o’clock the dinner bell once more unites us round the table, and the evening is spent in frankest cordiality. The voyage commences very promisingly.