He possessed the gentleness of a woman in tender little ways, yet his determination and will-power were beyond description.

His will admitted of no defeat.
I was in my nineteenth year when we started on what proved to be our last trip as fishermen, and which resulted in the strange story that shall be given to the world,--but not until I have finished my earthly pilgrimage.
I dare not allow the facts as I know them to be published while I am living, for fear of further humiliation, confinement and suffering.
First of all, I was put in irons by the captain of the whaling vessel that rescued me, for no other reason than that I told the truth about the marvelous discoveries made by my father and myself.

But this was far from being the end of my tortures.
After four years and eight months' absence I reached Stockholm, only to find my mother had died the previous year, and the property left by my parents in the possession of my mother's people, but it was at once made over to me.
All might have been well, had I erased from my memory the story of our adventure and of my father's terrible death.
Finally, one day I told the story in detail to my uncle, Gustaf Osterlind, a man of considerable property, and urged him to fit out an expedition for me to make another voyage to the strange land.
At first I thought he favored my project.

He seemed interested, and invited me to go before certain officials and explain to them, as I had to him, the story of our travels and discoveries.

Imagine my disappointment and horror when, upon the conclusion of my narrative, certain papers were signed by my uncle, and, without warning, I found myself arrested and hurried away to dismal and fearful confinement in a madhouse, where I remained for twenty-eight years--long, tedious, frightful years of suffering! I never ceased to assert my sanity, and to protest against the injustice of my confinement.