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

than others of their kind. If the tent became stiff and brittle, it might be spoilt in a very short time. And the demands we made on our tents were considerable; we expected them to last at least 120 days. I therefore got Wisting to make two tent-protectors, or guards. These guards consisted simply of a piece of gabardine long enough to stretch all round the tent, and to act as a fence in preventing the dogs from coming in direct contact with the tents. The guards were made with loops, so that they could be stretched upon ski-poles. They looked very fine when they were finished, but they never came to be used; for, as soon as we began the journey, we found a material that was even more suitable and always to be had —

snow. Idiots! — of course, we all knew that, only we wouldn’t say so. Well, that was one against us. However, the guards came in well as reserve material on the trip, and many were the uses they were put to.

In the next place, Wisting had to make wind-clothing for every man. That we had brought out proved to be too small, but the things he made were big enough. There was easily room for two more in my trousers; but they have to be so. In these regions one soon finds out that everything that is roomy is warm and comfortable, while everything that is tight — foot-gear, of course, excepted —

is warm and uncomfortable. One quickly gets into a perspiration, and spoils the clothes. Besides the breeches and anorak of light wind-cloth, he made stockings of the same material. I assumed that these stockings — worn among the other stockings we had on — would have an insulating effect. Opinions were greatly divided on this point; but I must confess — in common with my four companions on the Polar journey — that I would never make a serious trip without them. They fulfilled all our expectations. The rime was deposited on them freely, and was easily brushed off. If they got wet, it was easy to dry them in almost all weathers; I know of no material that dries so quickly as this windproof stuff. Another thing was that they protected the other stockings against tears, and made them last much longer than would otherwise have been the case.

As evidence of how pleased we who took part in the long sledge journey were with these stockings, I may mention that when we reached the depot in 80�S. — on the homeward trip, be it noted; that is, when we looked upon the journey as over — we found there some bags with various articles of clothing. In one of these were two pairs of windproof stockings — the bag presumably belonged to an opponent of the idea —

and it may be imagined that there was some fun. We all wanted them —

all, without exception. The two lucky ones each seized his pair and hid it, as if it was the most costly treasure. What they wanted with them I cannot guess, as we were at home; but this example shows how we had learnt to appreciate them.

I recommend them most warmly to men who are undertaking similar expeditions. But — I must add — they must give themselves the trouble of taking off their foot-gear every evening, and brushing the rime off their stockings; if one does not do this, of course, the rime will thaw in the course of the night, and everything will be soaking wet in the morning. In that case you must not blame the stockings, but yourself.

After this it was the turn of the underclothing; there was nothing in the tailoring and outfitting department that Wisting could not manage. Among our medical stores we had two large rolls of the most beautiful fine light flannel, and of this he made underclothing for all of us. What we had brought out from home was made of extremely thick woollen material, and we were afraid this would be too warm. Personally, I wore Wisting’s make the whole trip, and have never known anything so perfect. Then he had covers for the sleeping-bags to sew and patch, and one thing and another. Some people give one the impression of being able to make anything, and to get it done in no time — others not.

Hanssen had his days well occupied, industrious and handy as he was. He was an expert at anything relating to sledges, and knew exactly what had to be done. Whatever he had a hand in, I could feel sure of; he never left anything to chance. Besides lashing the sledges, he had a number of other things to do. Amongst them, he was to prepare all the whips we required — two for each driver, or fourteen altogether. Stubberud was to supply the handles. In consultation with the “Carpenters’ Union,” I had chosen a handle made of three narrow strips of hickory. I assumed that if these were securely lashed together, and the lashings covered with leather, they would make as strong a handle as one could expect to get. The idea of the composite handle of three pieces of wood was that it would give and bend instead of breaking. We knew by experience that a solid whip-handle did not last very long. It was arranged, then, that the handles were to be made by Stubberud, and passed on to Hanssen.

The whip-lashes were made by Hassel, in the course of the winter, on the Eskimo model. They were round and heavy — as they should be —

and dangerous to come near, when they were wielded by an experienced hand. Hanssen received these different parts to join them together and make the whip. As usual, this was done with all possible care. Three strong lashings were put on each handle, and these again were covered with leather. Personally, Hanssen was not in favour of the triple hickory handle, but he did the work without raising any objection. We all remarked, it is true, that at this time, contrary to his habit, he spent the hours after supper with Wisting. I wondered a little at this, as I knew Hanssen was very fond of a game of whist after supper, and never missed it unless he had work to do. I happened one evening to express my surprise at this, and Stubberud answered at once: “He’s making handles.” — “What sort of handles?” — “Whip-handles; but,” Stubberud added, “I’ll guarantee those hickory handles I’m making. You can’t have anything tougher and stronger than those.” He was rather sore about it, that was easy to see; the idea was his own, too. Then — talk of the devil — in walked Hanssen, with a fine big whip in his hand. I, of course, appeared extremely surprised. “What,”

I said, “more whips?” — “Yes,” said he; “I don’t believe in those I’m making in the daytime. But here’s a whip that I can trust.” I must admit that it looked well. The whole handle was covered, so that one could not see what it was made of. “But,” I ventured to object, “are you sure it is as strong as the others?” — “Oh, as to that,”

he answered, “I’m quite ready to back it against any of those —

” He did not say the word, nor was there any need. His meaning was unmistakable, and “rotten whips” sounded in our ears as plainly as if he had shouted it. I had no time to observe the effect of this terrible utterance, for a determined voice called out: “We’ll see about that!” I turned round, and there was Stubberud leaning against the end of the table, evidently hurt by Hanssen’s words, which he took as a personal affront. “If you dare risk your whip, come on.” He had taken down one of the insulted triple-handled whips from the shelf in his bunk, and stood in a fighting attitude. This promised well. We all looked at Hanssen. He had gone too far to be able to draw back; he had to fight. He took his weapon in his hand, and entered the “ring.” The conditions were arranged and accepted by both parties; they were to fight until one of the handles was broken. And then the whip duel began. The opponents were very serious over it. One, two, three — the first blow fell, handle against handle. The combatants had shut their eyes and awaited the result; when they opened them again, they shone with happy surprise — both handles were as whole as before. Now each of them was really delighted with his own handle, and the blows fell faster. Stubberud, who was standing with his back to the table, got so excited over the unexpected result that, every time he raised his weapon, he gave the edge of the table a resounding smack without knowing it. How many rounds had been fought I do not know, when I heard a crack, followed by the words: “There you can see, old man!” As Stubberud left the ring, I was able to see Hanssen. He stood on the battlefield, eyeing his whip; it looked like a broken lily. The spectators had not been silent; they had followed the fight with excitement, amid laughter and shouts. “That’s right, Stubberud. Don’t give in!” “Bravo, Hanssen! that’s a good one!”

The whips afterwards turned out remarkably well — not that they lasted out the trip, but they held together for a long while. Whip-handles are a very perishable commodity; if one used nothing but the lash, they would be everlasting, but, as a rule, one is not long satisfied with that. It is when one gives a “confirmation,” as we call it, that the handle breaks. A confirmation is generally held when some sinner or other has gone wrong and refuses to obey. It consists in taking the first opportunity, when the sledge stops, of going in among the dogs, taking out the defiant one, and laying into him with the handle. These confirmations, if they occur frequently, may use up a lot of handles.

It was also arranged that Hanssen should prepare goggles in the Eskimo fashion, and he began this work; but it soon appeared that everyone had some patent of his own which was much better. Therefore it was given up, and every man made his own goggles.

Stubberud’s chief work was making the sledge cases lighter, and he succeeded in doing this, but not without hard work. It took far longer than one would have thought. The wood had a good many knots, and he often had to work against the grain; the planing was therefore rather difficult and slow. He planed a good deal off them, but could “guarantee them,” as he said. Their sides were not many millimetres thick; to strengthen them in the joints, corners of aluminium were put on.

In addition to remaking the sledges, Bjaaland had to get the ski ready. To fit the big, broad boots we should wear, the Huitfeldt fittings had to be much broader than usual, and we had such with us, so that Bjaaland had only to change them. The ski-bindings were like the snow-goggles; everyone had his own patent. I found the bindings that Bjaaland had put on for himself so efficient that I had no hesitation in ordering similar ones for myself; and it may be said to their honour, and to the honour of him who made them, that they were first-rate, and served me well during the whole trip. They were, after all, only a retention of the old system, but, with the help of hooks and eyes, they could be put on and taken off in an instant. And those were the conditions we demanded of our bindings — that they