The workers are ready, and are being taken ashore by the boats.
The carpenters and a detachment of sailors go quickly up into the shed, and demolish the northern portion with surprising rapidity.
It is 11 o’clock in the morning. Andrée is standing before the shed, observing everything. His orders follow one another, brief and rapid; his voice resounds, rendered still stronger by a speaking trumpet. Nothing is heard but the crackling of the wood as it is broken away, and the wooden beams as they come crashing to the ground. A detachment of men clear away the rubbish as it falls.
On the south side, at the top of the shed, sailors are stretching the canvas between the masts, thus increasing by 13 feet the height of the roof.
Everywhere is feverish activity; the preparations go on rapidly.
We now turn our attention to the balloon, which slowly rises, as the bags of ballast are slowly let down from mesh to mesh until they stop at the hoop.
The wind becomes more and more violent. Puffs reach the balloon, which sways greatly from side to side; the equatorial straps support it well, and restrain its movements.
The cords are then arranged which work the valves and the rending flap. These delicate parts require constant inspection during these last operations, in order to prevent their working badly. Stadling hangs over the circle, on to a horizontal rope, a series of baskets in which were the carrier pigeons. This preliminary part of the preparations being concluded, the ballast bags are withdrawn until the balloon is properly balanced. The hoop remains firmly held to the ground by three cables long enough to enable it to rise sufficiently high for the car to be fixed in position. The rest of the ballast bags are collected into three groups, hung to the hoop by three ropes.
The car, which, with all its contents, weighs nearly 1,102 lbs., is brought under. It is slipped into its place, and quickly fastened to the hoop by the six cables supporting it.
Andrée walks round the balloon and round the shed, giving a last glance at every detail, satisfying himself that everything is ready and in good working order.
Strindberg, who has always been a great friend of mine, as we have a mutual sympathy with one another, begs me to send his _fiancée_ proofs of the last photographs that I shall succeed in developing, and which would interest her. He shows great emotion while speaking to me; it is not fear of the perils that he is about to face, but other sentiments that are agitating him at this moment. It is easy for me to guess what they are.