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All the vessels in port are dressed with bunting, and crammed with spectators. An army of photographers, who all have their cameras pointed at the Virgo, are preparing to immortalize the vessel as she now appears.

The launches and all the boats, large and small, are making the Virgo their rendezvous. The rest of the population is on the quays and the neighbouring buildings.

M. Vieillard, a friend, who came to accompany me, left me at nine o’clock; we arranged to meet at Spitzbergen.

I saluted Baron Dickson, his daughter and his niece, who were on the quay. His son came to the Virgo to shake hands, and wish me a good voyage.

The three explorers also arrived with their friends crowding round them. The partings were very touching, and the emotion, in which all present shared, reached its height when precisely at ten o’clock the signal for starting was sounded.

The Virgo is slowly moving.

The enthusiasm becomes indescribable. An immense hurrah, four times repeated, is volleyed from every panting breast. Handkerchiefs and hats are waved frantically, the cheers burst forth with redoubled vigour. Andrée, Ekholm, and Strindberg, appear at the bulwarks with their bouquets and their ribbons: they signal their adieux and acknowledge ours.