At half-past nine the ice-pilot signalled a three-master off the eastern cape of the Isle of Amsterdam.
Great excitement prevails on board the Virgo. What object has this vessel in coming to these regions visited only by whalers and tourists? She stops and hoists the Norwegian flag on her main mast. One cry went up from all hearts: “Nansen! Nansen coming back from the Pole.”
Those who had seen the photo of the ship Fram, recognise her perfectly well in the steamer which is lying at a distance of 2½ miles from us.
The snow is falling fine and thick. The captain and Andrée, Ekholm and Strindberg, are leaving in a steam launch to receive their valiant compatriots. When a few fathoms from the Fram, Andrée and his companions raise a vigorous cheer in honour of Nansen, but the faces of the sailors on board are saddened with a painful expression. Nansen is not with them. On the 14th of March, 1895, he left them at 84° lat., accompanied by the young lieutenant, Johannsen, taking with him sledges, twenty-eight dogs, and provisions for 120 days. He directed his steps towards the North Pole in the hope of returning by way of Franz-Josef land, where the Jackson Expedition was to winter.
After the exchange of greetings of welcome and when the emotion of the first moment had subsided, the members of the two expeditions indulged in a friendly conversation, happy and surprised at the same time to meet again in the glacial Arctic Ocean, free at last.
The Fram, which only a day before was packed in the ice at 81°, heard of our presence from a whaler; as soon as she was in open water she made for Dansk-Gatt in the hope of getting news of Nansen.
Captain Sverdrup, Lieutenant Hansen, the doctor and five other members of the crew, take their places in the launch. The remaining three men stay on board, while the small party are coming to visit our quarters and the balloon, which is waiting in the shed.
It is easy to imagine how greatly these brave men are astonished.
Then the expedition comes on board the Virgo where champagne soon foams in glasses. It is a pleasure to look at these brave sailors who, after three years and two months passed amidst the polar ice, are so happy to find themselves in the company of their “brothers in arms, and companions in peril.”
I am proud to be one of the first to greet the Fram on her return to these distant regions. I had the good fortune to converse at some length with Lieutenant Hansen, who speaks French fairly well. He is an amiable man, of about thirty years of age, a little over medium height, dark, with bright eyes and intelligent forehead, and pleasing manner.
He put numerous questions to me concerning the events which had taken place in Europe during the last three years. I informed him of the death of Alexander III., of the assassination of President Carnot, etc., and I spoke to him also of new discoveries and inventions: cinematographe, X-rays, etc., etc.
All this seemed to greatly interest him. Then in a few words he told me the extremely touching story of the Fram’s voyage.
Andrée made a speech and proposed a toast to Nansen and his gallant companions. The captain and the lieutenant replied in a few vigorous and moving words, and I felt myself struck with admiration for these brave men who have carried the European colours to the 86th degree of latitude.
They are happy to see their country and their homes again, but they are calm and patient as becomes true heroes. The lieutenant has a fiancée awaiting him, Andrée hands him a letter, only just arrived, from his mother. He also hands Captain Sverdrup a letter addressed to Nansen, and bearing the inscription, “The North Pole.”
The Fram’s library contains the Five Weeks in a Balloon, by Jules Verne, and the crew had often dreamt of the possibility of a balloon expedition coming to their relief. The dream was very near reality. In life everything is unforeseen, yet everything happens. If the polar balloon had started a few days ago it would have surely noticed the Fram on its way. “Man proposes and God disposes.”
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.