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.