On August 9 I was at the helm. A slight easterly wind barely filled the sails, and we were making roughly two miles an hour. It was very warm and I could hardly believe that only recently we had been besieged by thick ice and were contemplating trying to reach Novaya Zemlya on foot. We were drawing near the Murmansk coast, which we expected to appear out of the mist at any moment. I scrutinized the hazy horizon with the utmost attention, anxious to be the first to spot land or a vessel coming out to meet us. I had no time to become bored up on the bridge, for those who wanted to scan the horizon with the binoculars frequently came up to visit me. Each of us wanted to be the first to cry out, “Land Ho!”
Suddenly a dark, undulating shape stood out in the fog. I hesitated for a moment, looked closer, and easily recognized the distant shoreline as being the Murmansk coast. I let out a great cheer!
And yet we were all so tired of sailing at such a sluggish pace, after having dreamed of a steamship that would tow us as far as Arkhangel’sk, or at least lend us some coal. But no such vessel came out to greet us. We kept close watch on the horizon, ready for the moment when we could wave our flag. An hour after I had sighted land, we saw some small clouds of smoke rising in spirals on the horizon. Another hour went by before a long-awaited steamship came into view. But it was a Norwegian vessel on its way out of Arkhangel’sk with a heavy cargo of wood. They were heading in quite a different direction, and we doubted they would change course, since we were in fact under sail. Nonetheless, we hopefully hoisted our rather insignificant distress signal. The steamship passed by. We continued making for the coast, which slowly grew nearer, its shoreline becoming more and more distinct. However, we could not yet determine whether we were near the Kharkov light or at another point farther along the Murmansk coast. But when night fell we could see no beam of light. We changed to a more southeasterly heading, skirting the coast. At about ten at night, when we had just had supper, we saw the lights of another steamer. It was advancing rapidly, lit up with electric lights, so that it stood out clearly in the dark. It could only be one of the passenger vessels of the Arkhangel’sk-Murmansk line, plying between Arkhangel’sk and the local fishing ports, and the Norwegian port of Vardø. We could not have asked for more: If the captain were willing, they could tow us to any port along the coast.
The Saint Foka hove to; we set off signal rockets and also burned flares on the deck. We were sure that the steamship could not possibly fail to see our signals, and would come to investigate. But not at all! Dumbfounded, we looked at each other in silence. It went on its way, paying not the slightest attention. We made a final attempt by lighting packets of oakum soaked in kerosene up on the fo’c’sle, which seemed to plunge our old tub into a sea of flames. But the ferry continued to ignore us and steamed steadily on. What else could we do? As a last resort, we shot off a few rounds from our whaling guns. A veritable bombardment, with our gunners firing away as if they were on a practice range!
This last attempt certainly had an effect, but not the one we anticipated. The steamship, still not too far away, suddenly vanished. We stared in wide-eyed amazement: Had it really been a ship? Yes, but it had put out all its lights in the twinkling of an eye and disappeared into the night. This took us completely by surprise and for a moment we were speechless; then simultaneously all the men roundly abused the lily-livered captain who had not deemed our distress worthy of his attention. And a Russian steamship to boot! The conduct of the foreign vessel had not worried us unduly, for it was a long way off the coast, and we were not altogether certain that it had seen us. But the Russian vessel was another situation altogether: The cowardly fellow had purposely shirked his duty, and his conduct was not just strange, but ignominious.
Our captain looked for all possible explanations and came up with the following: When Russian fishermen—pomori—are drunk, they light distress signals in their boats, something which often deceives other ships. When the rescue vessel comes alongside, the fishermen’s so-called plight turns out to be a false alarm, and no one in particular can be held responsible, as the crew are all completely drunk. Naturally, captains who have fallen for this prank learn to pay no attention to such signals near the coast. But this explanation did not satisfy us. A ship that sets off an entire series of distress signals, even along the coast, should simply not be ignored and left to the mercy of a capricious captain’s imagination. This is in complete contradiction to the long-established laws of the sea. Fortunately, we were not exactly in great danger. Since we could not obtain any fuel, we would just have to continue at our snail’s pace, whether we liked it or not, and that is what we did, all night long.
At dawn we saw that we must have gone past the Kharkov lighthouse during the night. Because we were heading into wind, it did not seem wise to continue under sail as far as Arkhangel’sk, so we decided to make landfall at the first port where we could send a wire to request the help we had so far solicited in vain.
Near the fishing village of Rynda we met a fishing boat, a “snail,” as they are called, with several men aboard: These were the first people any of us had seen since our departure two years previously. They had recognized the old Saint Foka from a long way off; they were to be our messengers of fate, and greeted us with very sad news from home. As if anticipating some misfortune, we asked: Tell us what is happening in the world! Has a war broken out in our absence? They looked at us with consternation, then cried out in unison: What? Haven’t you heard that a terrible war has broken out, a war that started in Serbia? Germans, Austrians, French, English, Serbs, almost everyone is now involved in this violent conflict.
And what about Russia? we went on, overwhelmed by what we had just learned.
Of course Russia is fighting as well, allied to France, they answered. So it is a European war, one of us cried out. That’s right, that’s what they call it, said one of the fishermen. They passed on other interesting items of news, and also told us that the steamship that had so shamefully let us down the day before had been the Lomonossov. And then we understood. They had taken our poor old boat for an enemy warship and had fled as quickly as possible! Apparently the Murmansk coast was liable to be attacked at any time of the day or night by German submarines. We were certainly in the danger zone.
The fishermen kindly gave us some fresh milk and two pouches of tobacco that were very welcome to us all, although especially so to Sedov’s men, who had done without for so long. In exchange, Dr. Kushakov gave the fishermen a bottle of rum, totally ignorant of the enormous price it would fetch in those war-torn times.
Dr. Kushakov went on board one of the fishing boats returning to Rynda, to send a wire announcing our arrival and requesting assistance. We could not maneuver into Rynda, as there was not enough wind. At four in the afternoon, two motorboats belonging to the Skobelev fishing company came alongside. Mr. Skobelev himself came to greet us and brought us a big pile of newspapers with the latest news of the war. Once the crews had become introduced, the two boats towed the Saint Foka into the port.
Among the news items in the newspapers, we read that the Russian government had organized two expeditions to look for Brusilov and Sedov. One had been sent to the Kara Sea and the other to Franz Josef Land, to search for the Saint Foka. That evening we all gathered in the telegraph office at Rynda, while Dr. Kushakov sent a number of telegrams. He was richer than any of us, having several hundred rubles in his possession. Then Konrad arrived with a pound sterling he had previously found on board the Saint Anna when he was dismantling the cabins! The rest of us, including me, did not have a kopeck to our names. Dr. Kushakov gave us credit, though, and paid for all of our telegrams. Everyone asked his family to send money.
On that same eventful day, Mr. Skobelev invited us to tea, and we learned that the S.S. Emperor Nicholas II, en route from Alexandrovsk to Arkhangel’sk, could take us on board. The next day, five men from the Saint Foka went on to Arkhangel’sk: apart from myself, there were Pavlov, Vize, Pinegin, and Konrad. The captain of the steamer could no
t have been more considerate. Not only did he allow us to travel free of charge, but he also provided our meals on credit during the entire passage and even gave us his own cabin, as the ship was fully booked.
This, then, was my homecoming after an odyssey that had lasted for two years. Of all the companions who left St. Petersburg on July 28, 1912, on board the Saint Anna, only two of us had returned. Miraculously rescued after so many hardships, we finally disembarked in Arkhangel’sk on September 1, 1914.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Our primary debt of gratitude is to Christian de Marliave, the French polar expert who first called modern Western attention to Albanov’s remarkable work. De Marliave bent the ear of his longtime friend, Michel Guérin, who in 1998 published a deluxe illustrated edition of the French version of the book, titled Au pays de la mort blanche.
It was through Guérin that one of us (Roberts) grew sufficiently intrigued to locate a rare library copy of the French edition and read it. The present edition, the first to appear in English, was translated from the French and then emended by corroboration with an unpublished literal translation from the original Russian that we were lucky enough to come across. We are grateful to our translators, Alison Anderson and Linda Dubosson, for their diligent and thorough renderings under intense deadline pressures. Christian de Marliave also served as an invaluable consultant during the process. To retired Canadian geography professor William Barr, who is probably the leading English-language expert on the history of Russian Arctic exploration, we owe an immense debt for making his verbatim translation from the Russian available, for creating the maps from which we have adapted ours, and for correcting such errors of detail as would otherwise have crept into our text.
Lee Boudreaux at Random House had the canny publisher’s instinct to authorize this first English edition even before she had read the text, and she has scrupulously superintended our work on the book ever since. At Random House, Ann Godoff, David Ebershoff, and Brian McLendon instantly recognized Albanov’s text as a classic, paving the way for launching the book in the U.S. with the éclat it deserves. Dennis Ambrose at Random House supervised the editorial production of the book with an elegant regard for accuracy and style. Editors Stephen Byers, John Rasmus, and Mark Jannot at National Geographic Adventure likewise seized on Albanov’s achievement, producing a handsome first-serial excerpt to coincide with the book’s publication.
John Ware, who acted as our agent on this project, was enthusiastic about Albanov from the beginning. Finally, to all the editors—they know who they are—who indulged our obsession with Albanov while it delayed and threatened to derail other work we had already committed to, we owe a vote of thanks for their forbearance.
—Jon Krakauer and David Roberts
INDEX
Abruzzi, Duke of
Albanov expedition
Albanov’s comments about members
of
on Alexandra Land
Cape Flora journey of
daily activities in early days of
departure from Saint Anna of
diminishing supplies for
and discussion about abandoning
kayaks and sledges
and double sleeping bag incident
early days on
first camp of
fuel for
leaves Franz Josef Archipelago
maps for
physical appearance of members of
planned route for
polynya crossings of
preparations for
quarrels among members of
return to Saint Anna of some
members of
and reward for sighting land
separation of members of
and sightings of land
southward drift of
supplies from Saint Anna for
thieves of
“waiting camp” of
and Worcester Glacier adventure
See also specific person
Albanov, Valerian Ivanovich
aloneness of
death of
diary of
doubts of
dreams and hallucinations of
French edition of book by
gymnastic exercises of
historical obscurity of
illness of
leadership abilities of
as navigator
papers concerning Saint Anna expedition
with
personal characteristics of
return of
saint’s day of
as second in command of Saint
Anna
as writer
See also specific topic
Alexandra Land
Alexandrovsk. See Murmansk/
Murmansk coast
Algae, pinkish-brown
Andrée, Salomon
Anisimov, return to Saint Anna of
Anonymous tomb, on Cape Flora
Arctic expeditions
women on
See also specific explorer
Arhireyev, Alexander
Arkhangel’sk
Auks
Austrian expedition (1871)
Barents Sea
Baths, desire for
Bay of Teplitz
Bayev, Prokhor
Beer bottle, discovery of
Bell Island
currents around
eiders near
and journey to Cape Flora
Konrad’s trip to
rocks on
and Saint Foka search for missing
men
sighting of
Smith hut on
Birds
on Alexandra Land
on Cape Flora
on Cape Neale
and sightings of land
and southward drift of Albanov
expedition
See also type of bird
Bread, Albanov’s thoughts about
Brusilov, Boris Alexeyevich
Brusilov, Georgiy
and Albanov’s last day on board
Saint Anna
Albanov’s relationship with
and Albanov’s request to build
kayak
death of
and departure of Albanov expedition
and difficulties at start of Saint
Anna voyage
documentation of orders for
Albanov by
historical obscurity of
illness of
library of
log of
personality of
and preparations for Albanov expedition
rationale for expedition of
views about Albanov’s expedition
of
See also Saint Anna
Cagni, Umberto
Cambridge Bay
Cape Fligely
Cape Flora
Abruzzi on
Albanov and Konrad on
Albanov’s companions fail to
reach
Albanov’s and Konrad’s preparations
to leave
Albanov’s and Konrad’s preparations
to winter over on
cabins and huts on
hunting near
Jackson camp at
journey to
and Konrad’s search for missing
men
letters in mailbox on
Nansen and Johansen at
and planned route of Albanov expedition
provisions on
rescue of Albanov and Konrad
from
Sedov expedition on
and southward drift of Albanov
expedition
Ziegler expedition at
Cape Grant
Cape Harmsworth
Cape Neale
Cape Svyatoy
“The Castle” (Franz Josef Archipelago)
Cherry-Garrard, Apsley
De Long, George Washington
Death
&
nbsp; Albanov’s thoughts about
insensitivity to
See also specific person
Denisov (harpooner)
Dikson Island
Distress signals
Double sleeping bag incident
Ducks
on Alexandra Land
and Cape Flora journey
on Cape Grant
and sightings of land
See also eider ducks
Eggs, bird/duck
Eider ducks
Eira Harbor
Eira (Smith vessel)
Emperor Nicholas II (steamer)
Firearms. See rifles/guns
Flowers
Fortune-teller dream
Foxes, white
Fram (Nansen ship)
Franz Josef Archipelago
and Abruzzi expedition
Albanov and Konrad leave
Albanov’s knowledge about
“The Castle” on
as destination of Albanov expedition
fractured ice near approach to
hunting on
maps of
Nansen and Johansen on
and navigations of Albanov
and Sedov expedition
Smith on
and southward drift of Albanov
expedition
See also Alexandra Land; Bell
Island; Cape Flora; Cape Grant;
Cape Harmsworth; Cape Neale;
Hooker Island; Northbrook Island;
Prince George Land;
Prince Rudolf Island
Fulmars
Gillis Land
Glacier, Worcester
Grays Bay
Greenland, Nansen’s and Sverdrup’s
trip across
Gubanov, Vladimir
and journey to Cape Flora
Konrad’s search for
as member of Albanov expedition
as missing
Saint Foka search for
scurvy of
Guérin, Michel
Gulf Stream
Gulls
Gunther Bay
Gymnastic exercises, Albanov’s daily
Harmsworth. See Cape Harmsworth;
Jackson, Frederick G.
Harvard University, Albanov book
at
Health
of men on Albanov expedition
and polar bear liver
of Saint Anna crew
In the Land of White Death Page 17
