In the Land of White Death: An Epic Story of Survival in the Siberian Arctic (23 page)

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 not 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.

 

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

 

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

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

as writer

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

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

Bread, Albanov’s thoughts about

Brusilov, Boris Alexeyevich

Brusilov, Georgiy

and Albanov’s last day on board

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)