June 30th.—Andrée called us together to discuss the methods to be employed for starting his balloon. One great difficulty was, how to get the balloon out of its enclosure without the silk running the risk of being damaged by the wood of the shed.
Every one gave his opinion, and from all the suggestions put forward, the following conclusions were drawn:—
(1) All projecting parts of the shed against which the balloon might be injured should be covered with a thick pad of felt, in order to prevent any accident to the silk.
(2) The balloon, at its equator, should be protected by wide straps, which should be attached to the south side of the shed, so as to prevent it rolling against the mooring posts under the action of the wind.
(3) The south side of the shed should be closed as high as possible, and the highest floor should be provided with canvas to add to the height of the shelter; the canvas should be stretched out only at the last moment.
(4) For starting, the balloon should be held firmly to the ground by three cables attached to the hoop. It should be allowed to ascend to a sufficient height to allow of the car being placed in position, and then we should only have to free the balloon from its straps and cut the cables, in order to set it at liberty.
Orders were then given to put into immediate execution the operations decided upon.
The carpenters at once proceeded to the supports of the shed and padded all the projecting parts inside, whilst the sailors hastened to prepare the straps and the required canvas.
The polar balloon was soon ready to be launched into the air. Only the final operations remained to be carried out: the south side of the structure would have to be demolished, but this would not take long. Andrée having already had two floors demolished, only one remained to be removed; the ground floor, as it was not in the way, would be left to support the structure.
The placing of the car in position would only take a few minutes.
For the next few days we waited for the favourable wind.
Since our arrival at Spitzbergen, north winds had been blowing continuously. We had had no breeze from the south worth mentioning; the direction of the wind had always varied within the west-north-east sector. Andrée augured favourably from this; he hoped, and was even persuaded, that this state of affairs could not last much longer, that a change would soon take place in the atmosphere of the Arctic regions, and that south winds would prevail in their turn.
These days of waiting were very dull and monotonous. Idleness made us depressed; we sought for distractions. At meal-times, when all the members of the large family were assembled together, cheerfulness was restored, and, on the slightest excuse, we did not fail to give little entertainments, sometimes original and comic, which gave us all pleasure.
In Sweden, birthdays are always celebrated with great rejoicings, the person interested receiving presents, congratulations, etc. July 1st was the birthday of Dr. Lembke, a very genial and agreeable companion, on whom we had conferred, since our arrival at Dane’s Island, the title of “King of Spitzbergen,” on account of his corpulence and great stature.
We were all racking our brains to think of a present to offer His Majesty; but this was very difficult at Spitzbergen, where resources were necessarily limited. Nevertheless, we made our preparations, and in the morning, before our doctor was awake, each one brought his offering. Strindberg’s was a royal crown made out of a piece of silk gas tubing, the upper part of which he had fashioned most artistically; Fraenkel’s, a balloon of gold-beater’s skin, inflated with hydrogen, ornamented with long streamers of gay colours; the engineer Stake’s, a box of handkerchiefs cut out of the bands of stuff used to test the impermeability of the balloon; another brought some eiders’ eggs bearing humorous inscriptions; lastly, boxes of chocolate, biscuits, bonbons, fruit, etc., etc., and a bouquet composed of mosses and white and violet flowers, representing all the flora of the region.
At table, the doctor’s place was decorated with a large garland of different mosses, on which were laid raisins, almonds, oranges, etc.
The offering of the gifts was a very interesting little ceremony; each gift, more or less original, was received with good-humoured hilarity. And, in the evening, the champagne flowed merrily to emphasize our good wishes to the “King of Spitzbergen,” whose fund of amusing and funny stories seemed inexhaustible, but who asked to be allowed to resign his crown in order to pass his life more cheerfully and simply amongst his own people.
July 5th.—Since our arrival at Dane’s Island, after the first three or four days we had neither rain nor snow. The temperature, which varied very little, had always kept a few degrees above freezing point; a pleasant warmth was felt in the sun, when we were sheltered from the wind.
On this day, the change foretold by Andrée seemed to be coming, and for the first time since our arrival it rained, and the wind blew from the south-east.
July 6th.—The south wind at last, so long awaited, so ardently desired! It blew a gale. The rain had ceased; heavy clouds were passing northwards; a few hours would be sufficient to take the explorers to their destination.
Andrée devoted himself to meteorological observations while the first preparations were being made. The gas apparatus was set going at once to fill up the balloon.
Soon everything was ready; they were only waiting for Andrée’s orders to demolish the shed. He, absorbed by his observations, was meditating and seemed undecided. He kept going from one instrument to another, taking the direction of the wind from various points, comparing this direction with that of the clouds: it seemed difficult to him to come to a decision. The barometer had fallen too rapidly. Certainly the start would have to be made during a barometric depression, but we expected it to be slow and gradual. At last, after two hours’ observations, Andrée came slowly back to us to tell us the result of his researches. In a calm, firm voice, he said he should not start that day, because the wind, then very favourable, would not last long. He was very vexed, but he hoped that before long there would be other currents of air, more stable and more favourable. Nevertheless, he said when once the 15th of July was past, he would start on the first opportunity, even if the atmospheric conditions were only moderately favourable; but now he feared to compromise the success of the expedition by a premature departure.
It will be seen that Andrée combined great prudence with his scientific experience; moreover, his predictions proved correct. The next day, the south wind was succeeded by a north wind, and we still waited.
July 9th.—Bad weather, rain and a west wind. A Norwegian sailing vessel took refuge in our bay. It was returning from the ice-field, where the crew had been hunting seals, and had killed more than 700. The sailors were engaged in cutting up the animals; the skins were salted and the fat stored in barrels to be melted down.
July 10th.—The bad weather continued, with cold fogs and rain.
The Lofoten visited us for the second time with more tourists. Amongst them, I was pleased to meet some friends of our family: M. and Mme. H. Vieillard, and two other French travellers, M. Obermeyer, editor of the Figaro, and his wife. I much regretted not having time to say much to my fellow-countrymen. The Lofoten is engaged in a regular service between Hammerfest and Advent Bay; she had little time to spare, having extended her trip to come to Dane’s Island, and could not stop more than an hour in Virgo Bay.
In the evening the sky cleared, the rain ceased, and a strong wind blew from the south-west. The barometer, which had been falling for two days, still continued to do so slowly. We now had a chance of a wind favourable to our expedition.