We feel as if we had awakened from a hideous nightmare, and are glad to see the sun once more, shedding its warm rays upon us.
We return on board the Svensksund at 6 a.m., after roaming about on the sea for nine hours, and just at the time when all on board are waking up.
We celebrate St. John’s day as far as we can under the circumstances; at night a copious dinner is served, and we are much astonished at seeing such a variety of dishes set before us, although more than a month has elapsed since we last renewed supplies; this is a surprise reserved for us by Lieut. Celsing, who acts as steward on board our craft.
June 25th.—A most pleasant awakening: a sailor puts into my hands a parcel of letters and journals—news from France. None but they who have had the experience of being separated from their nearest and dearest, far from their native land, in a dull and desolate region like Spitzbergen, can ever know the joy experienced when a chance mail unexpectedly brings news from those one holds most dear.
I eagerly scan the letters and journals before troubling myself about ascertaining the name of the vessel which brought them. I then learn that it is a little sloop, the Express, chartered at Tromsö by three German tourists, Messrs. Th. Lerner, Dr. Fr. Violet, and G. Meisenbach, who have come to Spitzbergen for a few weeks. The small steamer has been severely tried during her passage by a storm which swept away two of her boats; she leaves to-night for the north, for Mossel Bay, where there is a “refuge” containing a store of provisions and boats intended for the shipwrecked; our tourists will find boats there to replace those they have lost.
June 26th.—Stake, the engineer, spent yesterday in preparing wide strips of light material which, after being impregnated with acetate of lead, are blackened at those parts which come in contact with the sulphuretted hydrogen gas.
Placed on the seams of the balloon, these strips enabled us to perceive the slightest traces of an escape of gas. But the practical application of this method was difficult and required some care. For getting on to the balloon, the extremities of a horizontal cable crossing the shed transversely were fixed to the two highest poles at the top; a pulley supporting a double rope was passed over the cable; we placed one leg on the loop and slid through space to the balloon. When we wished to return, two men drew back the pulley by means of a pulley-tackle. Some sailors found it a quicker and more satisfactory plan to descend by the meshes of the net.
Eight and sometimes ten of us were at work on the dome of the inflated balloon, and we had to perform compulsory gymnastic feats in order to support ourselves amidst the cordage of the net.
The sailors, being accustomed to this kind of exercise, climbed about the balloon quite at their ease; but I must confess that at first I had a slight feeling of dizziness; this, however, soon passed off.
It was a curious sight to see so many men on this silken envelope, which is the only barrier to the gas. The fact is unprecedented in the history of balloons.