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The South Pole, Volume 1

R >> Roald Amundsen >> The South Pole, Volume 1




An exciting seal-hunt took place the same day. Three crab-eaters had
ventured to approach the ship, and were marked down to increase our
store of fresh meat. We picked two mighty hunters to secure the prey
for us; they approached with the greatest caution, though this was
altogether unnecessary, for the seals lay perfectly motionless. They
crept forward in Indian fashion, with their heads down and their
backs bent. This looks fine; I chuckle and laugh, but still with a
certain decorum. Then there is a report. Two of the sleeping seals
give a little spasm, and do not move again. It is otherwise with the
third. With snakelike movements it wriggles away through the loose snow
with surprising speed. It is no longer target practice, but hunting
real game, and the result is in keeping with it. Bang! bang! and
bang again. It is a good thing we have plenty of ammunition. One of
the hunters uses up all his cartridges and has to go back, but the
other sets off in pursuit of the game. Oh, how I laughed! Decorum
was no longer possible; I simply shook with laughter. Away they
went through the loose snow, the seal first and the hunter after. I
could see by the movements of the pursuer that he was furious. He
saw that he was in for something which he could not come out of with
dignity. The seal made off at such a pace that it filled the air with
snow. Although the snow was fairly deep and loose, the seal kept on
the surface. Not so the hunter: he sank over the knees at every step,
and in a short time was completely outdistanced. From time to time
he halted, aimed, and fired. He himself afterwards asserted that
every shot had hit. I had my doubts. In any case the seal seemed to
take no notice of them, for it went on with undiminished speed. At
last the mighty man gave up and turned back. "Beastly hard to kill,"
I heard him say, as he came on board. I suppressed a smile -- did
not want to hurt the fellow's feelings.

What an evening! The sun is high in the heavens in spite of the late
hour. Over all this mountainous land of ice, over the mighty Barrier
running south, there lies a bright, white, shining light, so intense
that it dazzles the eyes. But northward lies the night. Leaden grey
upon the sea, it passes into deep blue as the eye is raised, and pales
by degrees until it is swallowed up in the radiant gleam from the
Barrier. What lies behind the night -- that smoke-black mass -- we
know. That part we have explored, and have come off victorious. But
what does the dazzling day to the south conceal? Inviting and
attractive the fair one lies before us. Yes, we hear you calling,
and we shall come. You shall have your kiss, if we pay for it with
our lives.

The following day -- Sunday -- brought the same fine weather. Of
course, there could now be no thought of Sunday for us. Not one of
us would have cared to spend the day in idleness. We were now divided
into two parties: the sea party and the land party. The sea party --
ten men -- took over the Fram, while on this day the land party took
up their abode on the Barrier for a year or two, or whatever it might
be. The sea party was composed of Nilsen, Gjertsen, Beck, Sundbeck,
Ludvig Hansen, Kristensen, Rönne, Nödtvedt, Kutschin, and Olsen. The
land party consisted of Prestrud, Johansen, Helmer Hanssen, Hassel,
Bjaaland, Stubberud, Lindström, and myself. Lindström was to stay
on board for a few days longer, as we still had to take most of our
meals on the ship. The plan was that one party, composed of six men,
should camp in a sixteen-man tent in the space between Rönniken and
Nelson, while another party of two were to live in a tent up at the
but site and build the hut. The two last were, of course, our capable
carpenters, Bjaaland and Stubberud.

By eleven o'clock in the morning we were at last ready to start. We had
one sledge, eight dogs and provisions and equipment weighing altogether
660 pounds. It was my team that was to open the ball. The sea party
had all collected on deck to witness the first start. All was now
ready; after countless efforts on our part, or, if it is preferred,
after a thorough thrashing for every dog, we had at last got them in a
line before the sledge in Alaska harness. With a flourish and a crack
of the whip we set off. I glanced at the ship. Yes; as I thought --
all our comrades were standing in a row, admiring the fine start. I am
not quite sure that I did not hold my head rather high and look round
with a certain air of triumph. If I did so, it was foolish of me. I
ought to have waited; the defeat would have been easier to bear. For
defeat it was, and a signal one. The dogs had spent half a year in
lying about and eating and drinking, and had got the impression that
they would never have anything else to do. Not one of them appeared
to understand that a new era of toil had begun. After moving forward
a few yards, they all sat down, as though at a word of command,
and stared at each other. The most undisguised astonishment could be
read in their faces. When at last we had succeeded, with another dose
of the whip, in making them understand that we really asked them to
work, instead of doing as they were told they flew at each other in a
furious scrimmage. Heaven help me! what work we had with those eight
dogs that day! If it was going to be like this on the way to the Pole,
I calculated in the midst of the tumult that it would take exactly a
year to get there, without counting the return journey. During all this
confusion I stole another glance at the ship, but the sight that met me
made me quickly withdraw my eyes again. They were simply shrieking with
laughter, and loud shouts of the most infamous encouragement reached
us. "If you go on like that, you'll get there by Christmas," or,
"Well done! stick to it. Now you're off." We were stuck faster than
ever. Things looked desperate. At last, with the combined strength
of all the animals and men, we got the sledge to move again.

So our first sledge trip could not be called a triumph. We then set
up our first tent on the Barrier, between Mounts Nelson and Rönniken
-- a large, strong tent for sixteen men, with the sheet for the floor
sewed on. Round the tent wire ropes were stretched in a triangle, fifty
yards on each side. To these the dogs were to be tethered. The tent was
furnished with five sleeping-bags and a quantity of provisions. The
distance we had come was 1.2 geographical miles, or 2.2 kilometres,
measured by sledge-meter. After finishing this work, we went on up
to the site selected for the station. Here we set up the tent --
a similar tent to the other, for sixteen men -- for the use of the
carpenters, and marked out the hut site. According to the lie of
the ground we elected to make the house face east and west, and not
north and south, as one might have been tempted to do, since it was
usually supposed that the most frequent and violent winds came from
the south. We chose rightly. The prevailing wind was from the east,
and thus caught our house on its most protected short wall. The door
faced west. When this work was done, we marked out the way from here
to the encampment below and thence to the vessel with dark flags
at every fifteen paces. In this way we should be able to drive with
certainty from one place to another without losing time if a storm
should set in. The distance from the hut site to the vessel was 2.2
geographical miles, or 4 kilometres. On Monday, January 16, work began
in earnest. About eighty dogs -- six teams -- drove up to the first
encampment with all the provisions and equipment that could be loaded
on the sledges, and twenty dogs -- Stubberud's and Bjaaland's teams --
went with a full load up to the other camp. We had some work indeed,
those first days, to get the dogs to obey us. Time after time they
tried to take the command from their masters and steer their own
course. More than once it cost us a wet shirt to convince them that
we really were the masters. It was strenuous work, but it succeeded
in the end. Poor dogs! they got plenty of thrashing in those days. Our
hours were long; we seldom turned in before eleven at night, and were
up again at five. But it did not seem particularly hard; we were
all alike eager for the work to be finished as soon as possible,
so that the Fram might get away. The harbour arrangements were not
of the best. The quay she was moored to suddenly broke in pieces,
and all hands had to turn out to make her fast to a new quay. Perhaps
they had just got to sleep again when the same operation had to be
repeated; for the ice broke time after time, and kept the unfortunate
"sea-rovers" in constant activity. It is enervating work being always
at one's post, and sleeping with one eye open. They had a hard time to
contend with, our ten comrades, and the calm way in which they took
everything was extraordinary. They were always in a good humour, and
always had a joke ready. It was the duty of the sea party to bring up
all the provisions and outfit for the wintering party from the hold,
and put them on the ice. Then the land party removed them. This work
proceeded very smoothly, and it was rare that one party had to wait
for the other. During the first few days of sledging all the members
of the land party became quite hoarse, some of them so badly that
they almost lost their voices. This came from the continual yelling
and shouting that we had to do at first to make the dogs go. But this
gave the sea party a welcome opportunity of finding us a nickname;
we were called "the chatterers."

Apart from the unpleasantness of constantly changing the anchorage,
on account of the breaking up and drifting out of the ice, the
harbour must in other respects be regarded as very good. A little
swell might set in from time to time and cause some disagreeable
bumping, but never anything to embarrass the vessel. One very great
advantage was that the currents in this corner always set outward,
and thus kept off all icebergs. The sledging between the ship and
the Barrier was done by five men to begin with, as the carpenters
were engaged in building the house. One man had also to be told off
as tent guard, for we could not use more than half our teams -- six
dogs -- at a time. If we harnessed the full team of twelve, we only
had trouble and fights. The dogs which were thus left behind had to
be looked after, and a man was required for this duty. Another of
the duties of the tent guard was to cook the day's food and keep the
tent tidy. It was a coveted position, and lots were cast for it. It
gave a little variety in the continual sledging.

On January 17 the carpenters began to dig the foundations of the
house. The effect of all we had heard about the Antarctic storms was
that we decided to take every possible precaution to make the house
stand on an even keel. The carpenters therefore began by digging
a foundation 4 feet down into the Barrier. This was not easy work;
2 feet below the surface they came upon hard, smooth ice, and had to
use pickaxes. The same day a stiff easterly breeze sprang up, whirling
the snow high into the air, and filling up the foundations as fast
as the men dug them. But it would take more than that to stop those
fellows in their work. They built a wind-screen of planks, and did
it so well that they were able to work all day, unhindered by drifts,
until, when evening came, they had the whole foundation dug out. There
is no difficulty in doing good work when one has such people to work
for one. The stormy weather interfered somewhat with our sledging,
and as we found our Alaska harness unsuitable to the conditions,
we went on board and began the preparation of Greenland harness for
our dogs. All hands worked at it. Our excellent sailmaker, Rönne,
sewed forty-six sets of harness in the course of the month. The rest
of us spliced the ropes and made the necessary tackles, while others
spliced wire-rope shafts to our sledges. When evening came we had
an entirely new set of tackle for all our sledges and dogs. This was
very successful, and in a few days the whole was working smoothly.

We had now divided ourselves between the two tents, so that five men
slept in the lower tent, while the two carpenters and I inhabited the
upper one. That evening a rather amusing thing happened to us. We were
just turning in when suddenly we heard a penguin's cry immediately
outside the tent. We were out in a moment. There, a few yards from the
door, sat a big Emperor penguin, making bow after bow. It gave exactly
the impression of having come up simply to pay us its respects. We
were sorry to repay its attention so poorly, but such is the way of
the world. With a final bow it ended its days in the frying-pan.

On January 18 we began bringing up the materials for the hut,
and as soon as they arrived the builders began to put them up. It
is no exaggeration to say that everything went like a well-oiled
machine. One sledge after another drove up to the site and discharged
its load. The dogs worked splendidly, and their drivers no less,
and as fast as the materials arrived our future home rose into
the air. All the parts had been marked before leaving Norway,
and were now discharged from the ship in the order in which they
were wanted. Besides which, Stubberud himself had built the house,
so that he knew every peg of it. It is with gladness and pride that
I look back upon those days. With gladness, because no discord was
ever heard in the course of this fairly severe labour; with pride,
because I was at the head of such a body of men. For men they were,
in the true sense of the word. Everyone knew his duty, and did it.

During the night the wind dropped and the morning brought the
finest weather, calm and clear. It was a pleasure to work on days
like this. Both men and dogs were in the best of spirits. On these
journeys between the ship and the station we were constantly hunting
seals, but we only took those that came in our way. We never had to
go far to find fresh meat. We used to come suddenly upon a herd of
them; they were then shot, flayed, and loaded on the sledges with the
provisions and building materials. The dogs feasted in those days --
they had as much warm flesh as they wanted.

On January 20 we had taken up all the building materials, and could
then turn our attention to provisions and stores. The work went
merrily, backwards and forwards, and the journey to the Fram in the
morning with empty sledges was specially enjoyable. The track was
now well worn and hard, and resembled a good Norwegian country road
more than anything else. The going was splendid. On coming out of the
tent at six o'clock in the morning one was instantly greeted with
joy by one's own twelve dogs. They barked and howled in emulation,
tugged and jerked at their chains to get to their master, and jumped
and danced about with joy. Then one would first go down the line and
say "Good-morning" to each of them in turn, patting them and saying a
few words. Splendid beasts they were. The one who was taken notice of
showed every sign of happiness. The most petted of our domestic dogs
could not have shown greater devotion than these tamed wolves. All the
time the others were yelling and pulling at their chains to get at the
one who was being petted, for they are jealous in the extreme. When
they had all received their share of attention the harness was brought
out, and then the jubilation broke out afresh. Strange as it may
seem, I can assert that these animals love their harness. Although
they must know that it means hard work, they all show signs of the
greatest rapture at the sight of it. I must hasten to add, however,
that this only happens at home. Long and fatiguing sledge journeys
show a very different state of things. When it came to harnessing,
the first trouble of the day began. It was impossible to get them to
stand still. The full meal of the previous evening, followed by the
night's rest, had given them such a superabundance of energy and joy
of life that nothing could make them stand still. They had to have a
taste of the whip, and yet it was a pity to start that. After having
securely anchored the sledge, one was ready at last with one's team
of six dogs harnessed. Now it might be thought that all was plain
sailing and that one had only to cast off one's moorings and be taken
straight down to the ship. But that was far from being the case. Round
about the camp a number of objects had collected in a short time,
such as packing-cases, building materials, empty sledges, etc., and to
steer clear of these was the great problem of the morning. The dogs'
greatest interest was, of course, concentrated upon these objects,
and one had to be extremely lucky to avoid a spill.

Let us follow one of these morning drives. The men are all ready
and have their dogs well harnessed. One, two, three, and we let them
all go at once. We are off like the wind, and before one has time to
swing the whip one finds oneself in the middle of a heap of building
materials. The dogs have achieved the desire of their lives -- to
be able to make a thorough investigation of these materials in the
way that is so characteristic of the dog and so incomprehensible
to us. While this process is going on with the greatest enjoyment,
the driver has got clear of the sledge and begins to distentangle
the traces, which have wound themselves round planks and posts and
whatever else maybe lying handy. He is far from having achieved the
desire of his life -- to judge from the expressions he uses. At last
he is clear again. He looks round first and finds he is not the only
one who has met with difficulties in the way. Over there among the
cases he sees a performance going on which makes his heart leap with
joy. One of the old hands has come to grief, and in so decisive a
fashion that it will take him a long time to get clear again. With a
triumphant smile he throws himself on the sledge and drives off. So
long as he is on the Barrier as a rule everything goes well; there
is nothing here to distract the dogs. It is otherwise when he comes
down to the sea-ice. Here seals lie scattered about in groups basking
in the sunshine, and it may easily happen that his course will be
rather crooked. If a team of fresh dogs have made up their minds
to turn aside in the direction of a herd of seals, it takes a very
experienced driver to get them in the right way again. Personally,
on such occasions, I used the only remedy I could see -- namely,
capsizing the sledge. In loose snow with the sledge upset they soon
pulled up. Then, if one was wise, one put them on the right course
again quietly and calmly, hoisted the sledge on to an even keel,
and went on. But one is not always wise, unfortunately. The desire to
be revenged on the disobedient rascals gets the upper hand, and one
begins to deal out punishment. But this is not so easy as it seems. So
long as you are sitting on the capsized sledge it makes a good anchor,
but now -- without a load -- it is no use, and the dogs know that. So
while you are thrashing one the others start off, and the result is
not always flattering to the driver. If he is lucky he gets on to the
capsized sledge again, but we have seen dogs and sledges arrive without
drivers. All this trouble in the early morning sets the blood in active
circulation, and one arrives at the ship drenched with perspiration,
in spite of a temperature of -5°F. But it sometimes happens that there
is no interruption, and then the drive is soon over. The dogs want
no encouragement; they are willing enough. The mile and a quarter
from the lower camp to the Fram is then covered in a few minutes.

When we came out of the tent on the morning of January 21 we were
greatly surprised. We thought we must be mistaken, rubbed our eyes,
opened them wider; but no, it was no good. The Fram was no longer
to be seen. It had been blowing pretty strongly during the night,
with snow-squalls. Presumably the weather had forced them to put
out. We could also hear the roar of the sea dashing against the
Barrier. Meanwhile we lost no time. The day before Captain Nilsen and
Kristensen had shot forty seals, and of these we had brought in half
the same day. We now began to fetch in the rest. During the forenoon,
while we were flaying and shooting seals, we heard the old, well-known
sound -- put, put, put -- of the Fram's motor, and presently the
crow's-nest appeared above the Barrier. But she did not get into her
old berth before evening. A heavy swell had forced her to go outside.

Meanwhile the carpenters were busily constructing the hut. By January
21 the roof was on, and the rest of the work could thus be done under
cover. This was a great comfort to the men; at that time their job
was undoubtedly the worst of any. Bitterly cold it was for them,
but I never heard them talk about it. When I came up to the tent
after the day's work, one of them was busy cooking. The meal always
consisted of pancakes and pitch-black, strong coffee. How good it
tasted! A rivalry soon arose between the two cook-carpenters as to
which of them could make the best pancakes. I think they were both
clever at it. In the morning we had pancakes again -- crisp, hot,
delicate pancakes, with the most glorious coffee -- before I was even
out of my sleeping-bag. That is what the carpenters had to offer me at
five o'clock in the morning. No wonder I enjoyed their society. Nor
did the men in the lower camp suffer any privation. Wisting showed
himself to be possessed of eminent talents as cook for the day. His
special dish was penguins and skua gulls in cream sauce. It was served
under the name of ptarmigan, of which it really reminded one.

That Sunday we all went on board -- with the exception of the necessary
tent guards for both camps -- and enjoyed life. We had worked hard
enough that week.

On Monday, January 23, we began to carry up the provisions. In order
to save time, we had decided not to bring the provisions right up to
the hut, but to store them for the time being on an elevation that
lay on the other side, to the south of Mount Nelson. This spot was
not more than 600 yards from the hut, but as the surface was rather
rough here, we should save a good deal in the long-run. Afterwards
when the Fram had sailed, we could take them the rest of the way. As
it turned out, we never had time for this, so that our main store
remained here. Sledging up to this point offered some difficulties at
first. The dogs, who were accustomed to take the road to the lower camp
-- between Nelson and Rönniken -- could not understand why they might
not do the same now. The journey with empty sledges down to the ship
was often particularly troublesome. From this point the dogs could
hear their companions on the other side of Nelson in the lower camp,
and then it happened more than once that the dogs took command. If they
once got in the humour for playing tricks of that sort, it was by no
means easy to get them under control. We all of us had this experience
without exception. Not one of us escaped this little extra turn. As
the provisions came up each driver took them off his sledge, and laid
the cases in the order in which they should lie. We began by placing
each sort by itself in small groups over the slope. This plan had the
advantage that everything would be easy to find. The load was usually
660 pounds, or 6 cases to each sledge. We had about 900 cases to bring
up, and reckoned that we should have them all in place in the course
of a week. Everything went remarkably well according to our reckoning.

By noon on Saturday, January 28, the hut was ready, and all the 900
cases were in place. The depot of provisions had quite an imposing
appearance. Great rows of cases stood in the snow, all with their
numbers outward, so that we could find what we wanted at once. And
there was the house, all finished, exactly as it had stood in its
native place on Bundefjord. But it would be difficult to imagine more
different surroundings: there, green pinewoods and splashing water;
here, ice, nothing but ice. But both scenes were beautiful; I stood
thinking which I preferred. My thoughts travelled far -- thousands
of miles in a second. It was the forest that gained the day.

As I have already mentioned, we had everything with us for fastening
the but down to the Barrier, but the calm weather we had had all the
time led us to suppose that the conditions would not be so bad as we
had expected. We were therefore satisfied with the foundation dug in
the Barrier. The outside of the but was tarred, and the roof covered
with tarred paper, so that it was very visible against the white
surroundings. That afternoon we broke up both camps, and moved into
our home, "Framheim." What a snug, cosy, and cleanly impression it
gave us when we entered the door! Bright, new linoleum everywhere --
in the kitchen as well as in our living-room. We had good reason to be
happy. Another important point had been got over, and in much shorter
time than I had ever hoped. Our path to the goal was opening up; we
began to have a glimpse of the castle in the distance. The Beauty is
still sleeping, but the kiss is coming, the kiss that shall wake her!

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