The South Pole, Roald Amundsen [free children's ebooks online .txt] 📗

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, R�nne, N�dtvedt, Kutschin, and Olsen. The land party consisted of Prestrud, Johansen, Helmer Hanssen, Hassel, Bjaaland, Stubberud, Lindstr�m, and myself. Lindstr�m 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 R�nniken 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 R�nniken — 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, R�nne, 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