From Pole to Pole | Page 2

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2. Map showing journey from Berlin to Constantinople 10
3. Plan of Constantinople 13
4. Map showing journey from Constantinople to Teheran, latter part of journey to Baku, and journey from Baku across Persia to Baghdad and back to Teheran 30
5. Map showing journey from Orenburg to the Pamir 56
6. Map showing journey from Teheran to Baluchistan 73
7. Map of Northern India, showing rivers and mountain ranges 82
8. Map of Eastern Turkestan 90
9. Tibet 112
10. Map of India, showing journey from Nushki to Leh, and journey from Tibet through Simla, etc., to Bombay 132
11. The Sunda Islands 154
12. Map showing voyage from Bombay to Hong Kong 158
13. Map of Northern China and Mongolia 174
14. Map showing journey from Shanghai through Japan and Korea to Dalny 184
15. The Trans-Siberian Railway 203
16. Map showing journey from Stockholm to Paris 216
17. Map showing journey from Paris to Alexandria 230
18. Map of North-Eastern Africa, showing Egypt and the Sudan 237
19. Livingstone's Journeys in Africa 262
20. North-West Africa 298
21. Toscanelli's Map 308
22. North America 325
23. South America 343
24. The South Seas 366
25. The North Polar Regions 378
26. The South Polar Regions 405


PART I

I
ACROSS EUROPE
STOCKHOLM TO BERLIN
Our journey begins at Stockholm, the capital of my native country. Leaving Stockholm by train in the evening, we travel all night in comfortable sleeping-cars and arrive next morning at the southernmost point of Sweden, the port of Trelleborg, where the sunlit waves sweep in from the Baltic Sea.
Here we might expect to have done with railway travelling, and we rather look for the guard to come and open the carriage doors and ask the passengers to alight. Surely it is not intended that the train shall go on right across the sea? Yet that is actually what happens. The same train and the same carriages, which bore us out of Stockholm yesterday evening, go calmly across the Baltic Sea, and we need not get out before we arrive at Berlin. The section of the train which is to go on to Germany is run by an engine on to a great ferry-boat moored to the quay by heavy clamps and hooks of iron. The rails on Swedish ground are closely connected with those on the ferry-boat, and when the carriages are pushed on board by the engine, they are fastened with chains and hooks so that they may remain quite steady even if the vessel begins to roll. As the traveller lies dozing in his compartment, he will certainly hear whistles and the rattle of iron gear and will notice that the compartment suddenly becomes quite dark. But only when the monotonous groaning and the constant vibration of the wheels has given place to a gentle and silent heaving will he know that he is out on the Baltic Sea.
We are by no means content, however, to lie down and doze. Scarcely have the carriages been anchored on the ferry-boat before we are on the upper deck with its fine promenade. The ferry-boat is a handsome vessel, 370 feet long, brand-new and painted white everywhere. It is almost like a first-class hotel. In the saloon the tables are laid, and Swedish and German passengers sit in groups at breakfast. There are separate rooms for coffee and smoking, for reading and writing; and we find a small bookstall where a boy sells guidebooks, novels, and the Swedish and German newspapers of the day.
[Illustration: MAP SHOWING JOURNEY FROM STOCKHOLM TO BERLIN.]
The ferry-boat is now gliding out of the harbour, and every minute that passes carries us farther from our native land. Now the whole town of Trelleborg is displayed before our eyes, its warehouses and new buildings, its chimneys and the vessels in the harbour. The houses become smaller, the land narrows down to a strip on the horizon, and at last there is nothing to be seen but a dark cloud of smoke rising from the steamers and workshops. We steam along a fairway rich in memories, and over a sea which has witnessed many wonderful exploits and marvellous adventures. Among the wreckage and fragments at its bottom sleep vikings and other heroes who fought for their country; but to-day peace reigns over the Baltic, and Swedes, Danes, Russians, and Germans share in the harvest of the sea. Yet still, as of yore, the autumn storms roll the slate-grey breakers against the shores; and still on bright summer days the blue waves glisten, silvered by the sun.
Four hours fly past all too quickly, and before we have become accustomed to the level expanses of the sea a strip of land appears to starboard. This is R��gen, the largest island of Germany, lifting its white chalk cliffs steeply from the sea, like surf congealed into stone. The ferry-boat swings round in a beautiful curve towards the land, and in the harbour of Sassnitz