Читать книгу Andrée and His Balloon - henri alexis lachambre - Страница 9

Table of Contents

June 8th, 1896, 10.30.—We have been under way for twenty-four hours; we are in sight of Norway, off the Forsund, at a distance of nine miles from the coast, but the mist prevents us from seeing very far. The fir-clad mountains are vaguely outlined to our right, and the Virgo is heading due north-west. There is nothing for us to do but take life as it comes. I commence my diary in my cabin. The sea, though a little rough, has not yet troubled me. Andrée alone has already paid his tribute.

Tuesday, June 9th, Coasts of Norway.—Sea rough, general discomfort, moral prostration; I am unable to write. The Virgo rolls heavily. At the present moment, 6 p.m., it is as light as at midday.

Wednesday, June 10th, 6.30.—The temperature has gone down considerably; we have crossed the polar circle. A steamer has kept company with us this morning at a distance of 7½ miles on our port side. Sea rough.

Thursday, June 11th, 10 a.m.—In sight of the Loffoden Islands; sky overcast; some few rays of the sun; sea smoother; the vessel still rolls.

Friday, June 12th, 9.30.—At last we are in the straits which lead to Tromsö. I was so ill to-night that I should have thrown myself into the sea had I forgotten, for one moment, my duty and my family.

DANES ISLAND AND THE PIKE HOUSE.

At 11 p.m. I sent for the doctor; it seemed to me that I was going to die all alone in my narrow cabin. He ordered me champagne and sleep. Charlotte, the stewardess, brought me some oranges, and took off my boots, which I had not had the courage to take off for four days. Oh, Charlotte, my fair Scandinavian maid, with your clear eyes, your engaging smile, your gay face, and your lithe but robust physique, how you must have pitied “the French gentleman,” as they called me, who but the other day was so nimble, so sure of himself to all appearance, and who has suddenly become more inert and helpless than an old cap that has been cast away by the skipper!

And in spite of the horrible tortures I suffered, I was vaguely conscious of the strange humour of the situation of having my boots removed by dainty female hands better adapted for millinery than for such a rough task.

Have you ever been sea-sick? If you have, you will understand me. How well I then understood what is narrated of Cicero, who, having taken refuge on board a vessel in order to escape the assassin sent out for him by Marc-Antony, preferred returning to Gaeta, to face the death which he feared, to enduring any longer the tortures of sea-sickness.

The bay bristles with high granite mountains with snow-capped summits. The Virgo makes signals for a pilot, who is a long time coming; she stops from five o’clock to nine awaiting him, and strange to say, when the noise of the engine ceases we have a feeling of sadness. It is as if something was wanting from our lives.

At last, at half-past nine the much-wished-for pilot arrives, and the Virgo resumes her route towards Tromsö, the promised land.

We are now floating on a lake whose banks are clad with verdure. I behold with some amount of pleasure the objects surrounding me.

What a contrast! On the right a group of well-built, brick pilots’ houses, on the mountain slope, facing the sea. Heavy cumuli cover the summits of the rocks; above, the sky is of a pure blue, and the bright sun pours floods of golden light over the landscape.

On the left there is a church standing all alone, the rendezvous of the fishermen who inhabit the coast in summer.

The sailors are getting ready the boat which is to set us ashore, as there is no quay at Tromsö, and the Virgo will remain at anchor in the roads.

The bay is getting narrower and villages succeed each other, with telegraph lines on both banks. Numerous Norwegian fishing boats are ploughing the sea. The air is pure and dry.

The Virgo glides majestically over the waves like a large bird. The landscape becomes animated and really fairy-like.

At eleven o’clock we sight Tromsö with its steeple, its wooden houses and villas rising in tiers one above the other on the slope of a very fertile mountain. The pilot is still steering the Virgo. Objects appear larger and more distinct; there is the harbour, with its vessels at anchor.

At ten minutes past one we arrive opposite Tromsö. We drop anchor at about five furlongs from the shore. As I have already mentioned, there is no landing stage. We are already surrounded by several boats. There is M. Aagaard, the consul, coming to welcome us. Then the telegraph messenger appears, to hand Andrée a package of telegrams. Lastly there are the friends of the explorers, and the members of the Geological Commission, who are going to travel with us as far as the Ice-Fjord.

We take a seat in a boat which puts us ashore in a few minutes.

June 14th.—We left Tromsö at 1 a.m. in splendid weather. The farewells of the inhabitants, who came flocking in crowds to cheer us, were very touching, and the Virgo resumed her course towards the north.

The sun was shining so brilliantly, as I have said, that I could scarcely realize whether it was midday or midnight.

Although less solemn than at Gothenburg, our departure was very imposing. The whole town was assembled on the quays, and all the boats of the port were formed in line to do us homage. There were tourists in steam-launches and fishing boats. In short, the whole populace of Tromsö had made a point of being there to wish us God-speed.

In the boats there were many well-dressed ladies; in one boat, in particular, there were five females frantically waving their handkerchiefs to the sailors.

Then Tromsö receded into the background, and will soon be nothing to us but a memory, a vision looked back to with regret.

Sunday passed without any incident. On Monday night we fell in with the first icebergs, and progress became more difficult.

DANSK-GATT.

June 16th, noon.—Since the morning we have been running along the coast of Spitzbergen, my future home, the place of my temporary exile. The progress of the boat is slow and perilous, in the midst of floating ice-blocks, which threaten to crush us at every moment. It requires all the experience of the captain and all the vigilance of the man at the wheel to avoid a catastrophe.

The ice pilot is on the look-out in the rigging, and indicates by signal the open channels.

We have seen a large number of birds, whales throwing up an immense stream of water, seals, etc. Three of these animals were disporting themselves on an ice-floe within gunshot. They were at once saluted by a discharge of guns, which did not hit them.

A variety of birds, very common in these regions, among them the auk, or fulmar (a kind of wild duck), which dives immediately it is pursued. This is, moreover, the way in which these birds seek their food, like all birds of the polar regions, for they live on fish. The steward of the vessel has just killed two with one shot. These birds have a very clumsy flight, their tail is very short, and it is only with the aid of their web feet that they steer themselves.

Yesterday, while passing near the Isle of Beeren-Eiland, which was hidden from our view by the fog, we saw myriads of birds of all kinds, among others a large number of sea-gulls.

This morning the thermometer stood at 2° above zero (Centigrade), 35·6 Fahr.

There was hoar-frost all along the rigging, and the sailors on the watch above cannot be overwarm.

We met a Norwegian sailing boat which was hunting walrusses, and had been cruising for several days in sight of Spitzbergen; they gave us some useful hints as to the state of the ice. Every now and then a sailor took soundings; the depth was from 15 to 20 fathoms.

The Virgo has just stopped her engines; the officers are holding a council. We are at the 76th degree of latitude, and we have not much further to go in order to reach Ice-Fjord, where we shall put in first before proceeding to Norsk-Oarna.

To the right the mountains covered with eternal snow; in front of us an impassable ice-field. There is an open passage near the coast, but the captain does not know the depth of water there. He is examining his charts. We shall have to wait. However, I fear a delay which will not suit Andrée.