 Section 09 of the South Pole. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Dick Durett. The South Pole by Roald Amundsen. Translation by A. G. Carter. Section 09, Volume 1, Chapter 4. From Madeira to the Barrier, Part 1. On the following morning we anchored in Funchal Roads. My brother was to arrive at Funchal by arrangement, early enough to be sure of proceeding us there. It was, however, a good while before we saw anything of him, and we were already flattering ourselves that we had arrived first when he was suddenly observed in a boat coming under our stern. We were able to tell him that all was well on board, and he brought us a big packet of letters and newspapers that gave us news of home. A little officious gentleman who said he was a doctor, and as such had come in an official capacity to inquire as to the state of our health, was in an amazing hurry to leave the ship again when, at the top of the gangway, he found himself confronted with a score of dog's jaws, which at the moment were opened wide on account of the heat. The learned man's interest in our health had suddenly vanished. His thoughts flew to the safety of his own life and limbs. As Funchal was the last place where we could communicate with the outside world, arrangements were made for completing our supplies in every possible way, and in particular we had to take on board all the fresh water we could. The consumption of this commodity would be very large, and the possibility of running short had to be avoided at any price, for the time being we could know more than fill all our tanks and every imaginable receptacle with the precious fluid, and this was done. We took about a thousand gallons in the long boat that was carried just above the main hatch. This was rather a risky experiment, which might have had awkward consequences in the event of the vessel rolling, but we consoled ourselves with the hope of fine weather and a smooth sea during the next few weeks. During the stay at Funchal, the dogs had two good meals of fresh meat as a very welcome variety in their diet. A fair-sized carcass of a horse disappeared with impressive rapidity at each of these banquets. For our own use, we naturally took a plentiful supply of vegetables and fruits, which were here to be had in abundance. It was the last opportunity we should have of regaling ourselves with such luxuries. Our stay at Funchal was somewhat longer than was intended at first, as the engineers found it necessary to take up the propeller and examine the brasses. This work would occupy two days, and while the three mechanics were toiling in the heat, the rest of the ship's company took the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the town and its surroundings. The crew had a days leave, half at a time. An excursion was arranged to one of the numerous hotels that are situated on the heights of the town. The ascent is easily made by means of a funicular railway, and in the course of the half hour it takes to reach the top, one is able to get an idea of the luxuriant fertility of the island. At the hotels, one finds a good cuisine, and of course, still better wine. It is scarcely necessary to add that we did full justice to both. For the descent, a more primitive means of transport was employed. We came down on sledges, and maybe startling to hear of sledging in Madeira, but I must explain that the sledges had wooden runners and that the road was paved with a black stone that was very smooth. We went at a creditable pace down the steep inclines, each sledge being drawn or pushed by three or four swarthy natives who seemed to be possessed of first-rate legs and lungs. It may be mentioned as a curiosity that the newspapers of Funchal did not hesitate to connect our expedition with the South Pole. The native journalists had no idea of the value of the startling piece of news they were circulating. It was a conard invented on the supposition that when a polar ship steers to the south, she must, of course, be making for the South Pole. In this case, the conard happened to be true. Fortunately for us, it did not fly beyond the shores of Madeira. By the afternoon of September 9, we could begin to make our preparations for departure. The engineers had replaced the propeller and tested it. All supplies were on board and the chronometers had been checked. All that remained was to get rid of the importunate bumboat, men who swarmed around the vessel in their little craft, each looking like a small floating shop. These obtrusive fellows were quickly sent off down the gangway. Besides ourselves, only my brother was left on board. Now that we were thus completely isolated from the outer world, the long expected moment had arrived when I could proceed to inform all my comrades of my decision, now a year old, to make for the South. I believe all who were on board will long remember that sultry afternoon and fun-shell roads, all hands were called on deck what they thought of I do not know, but it was hardly Antarctica and the South Pole. Lieutenant Nilsen carried a big rolled up chart. I could see that this chart was the object of many interrogative glances. Not many words were needed before everyone could see where the wind lay and what course we should steer hence forward. The second in command unrolled his big chart of the Southern Hemisphere and I briefly explained the extended plan as well as my reasons for keeping it secret until this time. Now and again I had to glance at their faces. At first as might be expected, they showed the most unmistakable signs of surprise, but this expression swiftly changed and before I had finished, they were all bright with smiles. I was now sure of the answer I should get when I finally asked each man whether he was willing to go on and as the names were called, every single man had his yes ready. Although as I have said, I had expected it to turn out as it did. It is difficult to express the joy I felt at seeing how promptly my comrades placed themselves at my service on this momentous occasion. It appeared, however, that I was not the only one who was pleased. There was so much life and good spirits on board that evening that one would have thought the work was successfully accomplished instead of being hardly begun. For the present, however, there was not much time to spare for discussing the news. We had first to see about getting away. Afterwards, there would be many months before us. Two hours grace was allowed in which every man could write to his people at home about what had just passed. The letters were probably not long ones at all events and they were soon finished. The mail was handed over to my brother to take to Christianity. From whence the letters were sent to their respective destinations, but this did not take place until after the alteration of our plans had been published in the press. It had been easy enough to tell my comrades the news and they could not have given it a better reception. It was another question what people at home would say when the intelligence reached their ears. We afterwards heard that both favorable and unfavorable opinions were expressed. For the moment, we could not trouble ourselves very greatly with that side of the matter. My brother had undertaken to announce the way we had taken and I cannot say that I envied him the task. After we had all given him a final hearty shake of the hand, he left us and thereby our communications with the busy world was broken off. We were left to our own resources. No one can say that the situation oppressed us greatly. Our long voyage was entered upon as though it were a dance. There was not a trace of the more or less melancholy feeling that usually accompanies any parting. The men joked and laughed while witticisms, both good and bad, were bandied about on the subject of our original situation. The anchor came up more quickly than usual and after the motor had helped us to escape from the oppressive heat of the harbor, we had the satisfaction of seeing every sail filled with a fresh and cooling northeast trade. The dogs who must have found the stay at Funchal rather too warm for their taste expressed their delight at their welcome breeze by getting up a concert. We felt we could not grudge them the pleasure this time. It was pure enjoyment to come on deck the morning after leaving Madeira. There was an added note of friendliness in every man's good morning and a smile twinkled in the corner of every eye. The entirely new turned things had taken and the sudden change to fresh feels for thought and imagination acted as a beneficent stimulus to those who, the day before, had contemplated a trip round the horn. I think what chiefly amused them was their failure to smell a rat before. How could I have been such an ass as not to think of it long ago? Said Beck as he sent a nearly new quid into the sea. Of course it was as plain as a pike staff. Here we are with all these dogs, this fine observation house with its big kitchen range and shiny cloth on the table and everything else. Any fool might have seen what it meant. I consoled him with a remark that it is always easy to be wise after the event and that I thought it very lucky no one had discovered our destination prematurely. Those of us who had been obliged hitherto to keep to themselves what they knew and to resort to all kinds of stratagems to avoid making any disclosure were certainly no less pleased at being rid of the secret. Now they could talk freely to their hearts content. If we had previously had to resort to mystification there was now nothing to prevent laying our cards on the table. So many a conversation had come to a standstill because those who had a number of questions to ask did not dare to put them and those who could have told held their tongues. Hereafter it would be a very long time before we were at a loss for subjects of conversation. A theme had suddenly presented itself so varied and comprehensive that it was difficult at first to know where to begin. There were many men on board the Fram with a wealth of experience gained during years spent within the attic circle. But to almost all of us the great Antarctic continent was a terra incognita. I myself was the only man on board who had seen Antarctica. Perhaps one or two of my companions had in former days passed in the vicinity of an Antarctic iceberg on a voyage around Cape Horn but that was all. What had previously been accomplished in the way of exploration in the South and the narratives of the men who had endeavored to extend our knowledge of that inhospitable continent were also things that very few of the ship's company had had time or opportunity to study nor had they perhaps had any reason to do so. Now there were every possible reason. I considered it an imperative necessity that every man should acquaint himself as far as possible with the work of previous expeditions. This was the only way of becoming in some measure familiar with the conditions in which we should have to work. For this reason the Fram carried a whole library of Antarctic literature containing everything that has been written by the long succession of explorers in these regions from James Cook and James Clark Ross to Captain Skok and Sir Ennis Shackleton. And indeed good use was made of this library. The works of the two last name explorers were in chief request. They were read from cover to cover by all who could do so and well written and excellently illustrated as these narratives are, they were highly instructive. But if ample time was thus devoted to the theoretical study of our problem the practical preparations were not neglected. As soon as we were in the trade winds where the virtually constant direction and force of the wind permitted a reduction of the watch on deck the various specialists went to work to put our extensive wintering outfit in the best possible order. It is true that every precaution had been taken beforehand to have every part of the equipment as good and as well adapted to its purpose as possible but the whole of it nevertheless required a thorough overhauling. With so complicated an outfit as ours was one is never really at the end of one's work. It will always be found that some improvement or other can be made. It will appear later that we had our hands more than full of the preparations for the sledge journey not only during the long sea voyage but also during the still longer Antarctic winter. Our sailmaker Ronnie was transformed into a, well let us call it Taylor. Ronnie's pride was a sewing machine which he had obtained from the yard at Horton after considerable use of his persuasive tongue. His greatest sorrow on the voyage was that on arriving at the barrier he would be obliged to hand over his treasure to the shore party. He could not understand what we wanted with a sewing machine at Franheim. The first thing he did when the Fram reached Buenos Aires was to explain to the local representative of the Singer Sewing Machine Company how absolutely necessary it was to have his loss made good. His gift of persuasion helped him again and he got a new machine. For that matter it was not surprising that Ronnie was fond of his machine. He could use it for all sorts of things. Sailmakers, shoemakers, saddlers and Taylor's work was all turned out with equal celerity. He established his workshop in the chat house and there the machine hummed incessantly through the tropics. The west wind belt and the ice flows too for quick as our sailmaker was with his fingers the orders poured in even more quickly. Ronnie was one of those men whose ambition it is to get as much work as possible done in the shortest possible time and with increasing astonishment he saw that here he would never be finished. He might go at it as hard as he liked there was always something more. To reckon up all that he delivered from his workshop during these months would take us too long. It is enough to say that all the work was remarkably well done and executed with admirable rapidity. Perhaps one of the things he personally prided himself most on having made was the little three man tent which was afterwards left at the South Pole. It was a little masterpiece of a tent made of thin silk which when folded together would easily have gone into a fair size pocket and weighed hardly a kilogram. At this time we could not count with certainty on the possibility of all those who made the Southern journey reaching latitude 90 degrees. On the contrary we had to be prepared for the probability of some of the party being obliged to turn back. It was intended that we should use the tent in question in case it might be decided to let two or three men make the final dash and therefore it was made as small and light as possible. Fortunately we had no need to use it as every man reached the goal and we then found that the best way of disposing of Ronnie's work of art was to let it stay there as a mark. Our sailmaker had no dogs of his own to look after. He had no time for that. On the other hand he often assisted me in attending to my 14 friends up on the bridge but he seemed to have some difficulty in getting on terms of familiarity with the dogs and all that belonged to them. It did not quite agree with his idea of life on board ship to have a deck swarming with dogs. He regarded this abnormal state of things with a sort of scornful compassion. So you carry dogs to aboard the ship you would say, every time he came on deck and found himself face to face with the brutes. The poor brutes I am sure made no attempt to attack Ronnie's person more than anyone else's but he seemed for a long time to have great doubts about it. I don't think he felt perfectly safe until the dogs had been muzzled. As part of our equipment to which we gave special care was of course the ski. In all probability they would be our chief weapon in the coming fight. However much we might have to learn from Scott's and Shackleton's narratives it was difficult for us to understand their statements that the use of ski on the barrier was not a success. From the descriptions that were given of the nature of the surface and the general conditions we were forced to the opposite conclusion that ski were the only means to employ. Nothing was spared to provide a good skiing outfit and we had an experienced man in charge of it. Olaf Jelland. It is sufficient to mention his name. When on leaving Norway it was a question of finding a good place for our 20 pairs of ski. We found we should have to share our own quarters with them. They were all disposed under the ceiling of the four cabin. At any rate we had no better place to put them. Jelland who during the last month or two had tried his hand at the unaccustomed work of a seamen went back to his old trade of ski maker and carpenter when we came into the trade winds. Both ski and bindings were delivered ready for use by Hagen and company of Christiania. It remained to adapt them and fit the back straps to each man's boots so that all might be ready for use on arrival at the barrier. A full skiing outfit had been provided for every man so that those who were to be left on board might also have a run now and then during their stay at the ice edge. For each of our 10 sledges, Jelland made during the voyage a pair of loose runners which it was intended to use in the same way as the Eskimo used theirs. These primitive people have or at any event had no material that was suited for shoeing sledge runners. They got over the difficulty by covering the runners with a coating of ice. No doubt it requires a great deal of practice and patience to put on this kind of shoeing properly. But when it is once on there can be no question that this device throws all others into the shade. As I say, we had intended to try this on the barrier. We found however that the pulling power of our teams was so good as to allow us to retain our steel shard runners with an easy conscience. For the first 14 days after leaving Madeira, the Northeast trade was fresh enough to enable us to keep up our average rate or a little more with the help of the sales alone. The engine was therefore allowed a rest and the engineers had an opportunity of cleaning and polishing it. This they did early and late till it seems as if they could never get it bright enough. Naughtvelt now had a chance of devoting himself to the occupation which is his delight in this world. That of the blacksmith and indeed there was opportunity enough for his use of the hammer and anvil. If Ronnie had plenty of sewing, Naughtvelt had no less forging, sledgefishings, knives, pickaxes, bars and bolts, patent hooks by the hundred for dogs, chains and so on to infinity. The clang and sparks of the anvil were going all day long until we were well into the Indian Ocean and in the westerly belt of the blacksmith's lot was not an enviable one. It is not always easy to hit the nail on the head when one's feet rest on so unstable a foundation as the Fram's deck, nor is it altogether pleasant when the forge is filled with water several times a day. While we were fitting out for the voyage, the cry was constantly raised in certain quarters at home that the old Fram's hall was in a shocking state. It was said to be in bad repair, to leak like a sieve, in fact, to be altogether rotten. It throws a curious light on these reports when we look at the voyages that the Fram has accomplished in the last two years. For 20 months out of the 24, she has kept going in open sea and that too in waters which make very serious demands on a vessel's strength. She is just as good as when she sailed and could easily do it all over again without any repairs. We who were on board all knew perfectly well before we sailed how groundless and foolish these cries about her rotteness were. We knew too that there is scarcely a wooden ship afloat on which it is not necessary to use the pumps now and then. When the engine was stopped, we found it was sufficient to take a 10-minute turn at the hand pump every morning. That was all the leaking amounted to. Oh no, there was nothing wrong with the Fram's hull. On the other hand, there might be a word or two to say about the rigging. If this was not all it should have been, the fault lay entirely with the plaguing considerations of our budget. On the four mast, we had two square sails. There ought to have been four. On the jib boom, there were two stay sails. There was room enough for three, but the money would not run to it. In the trades, we tried to make up for the deficiency by rigging a studding sail alongside the fore sail and a sky sail above the top sail. I will not assert that these improved sails contributed to improve the vessel's appearance, but they gutter along and that is a great deal more important. We made very fair progress southward during these September days and before the month was half over we had come a good way into the tropical belt. No particularly tropical heat was felt at any rate by us men and as a rule the heat is not severely felt on board ship and open seas so long as the vessel is moving. On a sailing ship lying be calmed with the sun and the zenith, it might be warmer than one would wish, but in case of calms we had the engines to help us and know that there was always a little breeze that is on deck. Down below it was worse, sometimes hoggishly mild as Beck used to put it. Our otherwise comfortable cabins had one fault. There were no portholes in the ship's side and therefore we could not get a draft, but most of us managed without shifting our quarters. Of the two saloons, the four saloon was decidedly preferable in warm weather and a cold climate probably the reverse will be the case. We're able to secure a thorough draft of air forward through the alleyway euding to the forecastle. It was difficult to get a good circulation aft where they also had the warm proximity of the engines. The engineers of course had the hottest place but they ever invented sunbeck devised a means of improving the ventilation of the engine room so that even there they were not so badly off under the circumstances. One often hears it asked, which is to be preferred, severe heat or severe cold? It is not easy to give a definite answer, neither of the two is pleasant and it must remain a matter of taste which is least so. On board ship, no doubt most people will vote for heat. As even if the days are rather distressing, one has a glorious night to make up for them. A bitterly cold day is poorly compensated for by an even colder night. One decided advantage of warm climate for men who have to be frequently in and out of their clothes and their bunks is the simplicity of costume which it allows. When you wear hardly anything, it takes a very short time to dress. If we had been able to take the opinion of our dogs on their existence in the tropics, they would probably have answered as one dog, thanks, let us get back to rather cooler surroundings. Their coats were not exactly calculated for a temperature of 90 degrees in the shade. And the worst of it was that they could not change them. It is, by the way, a misunderstanding to suppose that these animals absolutely must have hard frost to be comfortable. On the contrary, they prefer to be nice and warm. Here in the tropics, of course, they had rather too much of a good thing but they did not suffer from the heat. By stretching awnings over the whole ship, we contrived that they should all be constantly in the shade and so long as they were not directly exposed to the sun's rays, there was no fear of anything going wrong. How well they came through, it appears best from the fact that not one of them was on the sick list on account of the heat. During the whole voyage, only two deaths occurred from sickness. One was the case of a bitch that died after giving birth to eight pups which might just as easily have caused her death under other conditions. What was the cause of death? In the other case, we were unable to find out. At any rate, it was not an infectious disease. One of our greatest fears was the possibility of an epidemic of one of the dogs, but thanks to the care with which they had been picked, there was never a sign of anything of the sort. In the neighborhood of the equator between the northeast and the southeast trades lies what is called the belt of calms. The position and extent of this belt vary somewhat with the season. If you are extremely lucky, it may happen that one trade win will practically take you over into the other, but as a rule, this region will cause quite a serious delay to sailing ships. Either there are frequent calms or shifting and unsteady winds. We arrived there at an unfavorable time of the year and lost the northeast trade as early as 10 degrees north of the line. If we had had the calm we look for, we could have got across with the help of the engine in a reasonably short time, but we saw very little sign of calm. As a rule, there was an obstinate south wind blowing and would not have taken very much of it to make the last few degrees of north latitude stiffer than we cared for. The delay was annoying enough, but we had another disappointment of a more serious kind. For curiously enough, we never had a proper shower of rain. Generally in these latitudes, one encounters extremely heavy downpours which make it possible to collect water by the barrel full in a very short space of time. We had hoped in this way to increase our store of fresh water, which was not so large, but that extreme economy had to be practiced if we were to avoid running short. However, this hope failed us practically speaking. We managed to catch a little water, but it was altogether insufficient and the husband thing of our supply had to be enforced in future with authority. The dogs required the deliration and they got it. Measured out to a hare's breath. Our own consumption was limited to what was strictly necessary. Soups were banished from the bill of fare. They used too much of the precious fluid. Washing in fresh water was forbidden. It must not be supposed that this, that we had no opportunity of washing. We had a plentiful supply of soap which lathered just as well in salt water as in fresh and was thus capable of keeping ourselves in our clothes as clean as before. If for a time we had felt a certain anxiety about our water supply, these fears were banished comparatively quickly as the reserve we had taken in the longboat on deck lasted an incredibly long time, almost twice as long as we had dared to hope. And this saved the situation of very nearly so. If the worst came to the worst, we should be obliged to call it one of the numerous groups of islands that would lie in our root later on. For over six weeks, the dogs had now been chained up in the places assigned to them when they came on board. In the course of that time, most of them had become so tame and trackable that we thought we might soon let them loose. This would be a welcome change for them and what was more important, it would give them an opportunity for exercise. To tell the truth, we all expected some amusement from it. There would certainly be a proper shindy when all this pack got loose. But before we gave them their liberty, we were obliged to disarm them. Otherwise, the inevitable free fight would be liable to result in one or more of them being left on the battlefield and we could not afford that. Every one of them was provided with a strong muzzle, then we let them loose and waited to see what would happen. At first, nothing at all happened. It looked as if they had abandoned once and for all the thought of ever moving from the spot they had occupied so long. At last, a solitary individual had the bright idea of attempting a walk along the deck, but he should not have done so. It was dangerous to move about there. The unaccustomed sight of a loose dog at once aroused his nearest neighbors. A dozen of them flung themselves upon the unfortunate animal who had been the first to leave his place, rejoicing in the thought of planting their teeth in a sinful body. But to their disappointment, the enjoyment was not so great as they expected. The confounded strap around their jaws made it impossible to get hold of the skin. The utmost they could do was to pull a few tufts of hair out of the object of their violent onslaught. This affair of outposts gave the signal for a general engagement all along the line. What an unholy row there was for the next couple of hours. The hair flow but skins remain intact. The muzzles saved a good many lives that afternoon. These fights are the chief amusement of the Eskimo dogs. They follow the sport with genuine passion. There would be no great objection to it if they had not the peculiar habit of always combining to set upon a single dog who was chosen as their victim for the occasion. They all make for this one. And if they are left to themselves, they will not stop until they have made an end of the poor beast. And this way a valuable dog may be destroyed in a moment. We therefore naturally made every effort from the first to quench their love of fighting and the dogs very soon began to understand that we were not particularly fond of their combat. But we adhere to deal with a natural characteristic, which it is impossible to eradicate. In any case, one could never be sure that nature would not reassert itself over discipline. When the dogs had once been let loose, they remained free to run about wherever they liked for the remainder of the voyage. Only at mealtime were they tied up. It was quite extraordinary how they managed to hide themselves in every hole and corner. On some mornings, there was hardly a dog to be seen when daylight came. Of course, they visited every place where they ought not to have gone. Several of them repeatedly took the opportunity of tumbling into the forehold when the hatches were open, but a fall of 25 feet did not seem to trouble them in the least. One even found his way into the engine room, difficult as it might seem to gain access to it, and curled himself up between the piston rods. Fortunately for the visitor, the engine was not started while he was there. When the first furious battles had been fought out, a calm soon settled upon the dog spirits. It was easy to notice a feeling of shame and disappointment in the champions when they found that all their efforts led to nothing. The sport had lost its principal charm as soon as they saw what a poor chance there was of tasting blood. From what has here been said, perhaps from other accounts of the nature of attic dogs, it may appear as though the mutual relations of these animals consisted exclusively of fighting. This however is far from being the case. On the contrary, they very often force friendships which are sometimes so strong that one dog simply cannot live without the other. Before we let the dogs loose, we had remarked that there were a few who, for some reason or other, did not seem as happy as they should have been. They were more shy and restless than the others. No particular nurse was taken of this and no one tried to find out the cause of this. The day we left them loose, we discovered what had been the matter with the ones that had moped. They had some old friend who had a chance to be placed in some other part of the deck and this separation had been the cause of their low spirits. It was really touching to see the joy they showed on meeting again. They became quite different animals. Of course, in these cases, a change of places was arranged between the different groups so that those who had associated from their own inclination would in future be members of the same team. End of section nine, recording by Dick Durett, Manchester, New Hampshire, USA. Section 10 of the South Pole. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Naksha. The South Pole by Ronald Amundsen. Translation by A.G. Carter. Section 10, volume one, chapter four from Madeira to the Barrier, part two. We had expected to reach the equator by October 1st, but the unfavorable conditions of wind that we met with to the north of it caused us to be a little behind our reckoning, though not much. On the afternoon of October 4th, the Fram crossed the line. That's an important stage of the voyage was concluded. The feeling that we had now reached the southern latitudes was enough to put us all in holiday humor. And we felt we must get a modest entertainment. According to ancient custom, crossing the line should be celebrated by a visit from Father Neptune himself, whose part is taken for the occasion by someone chosen from among the ship's company. If in the course of his inspection, this August personage comes upon anyone who's unable to prove that he has already crossed the famous circle, he is handed over at once to the attendants to be shaved and baptized. This process, which is not always carried out with exaggerated gentleness, causes much amusement and forms a welcome variety in the monotonous life of a long sea voyage. And probably many on both the Fram looked forward with eagerness to Neptune's visit, but he did not come. There was simply no room for him on our already well-occupied deck. We contented ourselves with a special dinner followed by coffee, liqueurs, and cigars. Coffee was served on the four-deck, whereby moving a large number of dogs we had contrived to get a few square yards of space. There was no lack of entertainment. A violin and mandolin orchestra, composed of prestra, sunbed, and bed, contributed several pieces, and our excellent gramophone was heard for the first time, just as it started the walls from the Count of Luxembourg. There appeared in the companion way a real ballet girl, masked and in very short skirts. This unexpected apparition from a better world was greeted with warm applause, which was no less vigorous when the fair one had given proof of her skill in the art of dancing. Behind the mask could be detected church and space, but both costume and dance were in the highest degree feminine. Ron was not satisfied until he had the lady on his knees. Hooray for illusion. The gramophone now changed to a swinging American cakewalk, and at the same moment there, opportunity appeared on the scene a nigger in a tailcoat, a silk hat, and a pair of wooden shoes. Black as he was, we saw at once that it was the second in command who had thus disguised himself. The mere sight of him was enough to set us all shrieking with laughter, but he made his great success when he began to dance. He was intensely amusing. It did us all a great deal of good to have a little amusement just then. This part of the voyage was a trial of patience more than anything else. Possibly we were rather hard to please, but the Southeast trade, which we were expecting to meet every day was, in our opinion, far too late in the coming. And when at length it arrived, it did not behave at all as becomes a wind that has the reputation of being the steadiest in the world. Besides being far too light, according to our requirements, it permitted itself such irregularities as swinging between the points of South and East. It was mostly in the neighborhood of the former. For us, who had to lie all the time close-haul to the Westward, this had the effect of increasing our Western longitude a great deal faster than our latitude. We were rapidly approaching the Northeastern point of South America, Cape Sand Rock. Fortunately, we escaped any closer contact with this headland which shoots so far out into the Atlantic. The wind at last shifted after, but it was so light that the motor had to be constantly in use. Slowly but surely, we now went southward and the temperature again began to approach the limits that are fitting according to a northerners' ideas. The tiresome, rather low awning, could be removed and it was a relief to be rid of it as one could then walk upright everywhere. On October 16th, according to observations at noon, we were in the vicinity of the island of South Trinidad, one of the lonely Oasis in the watery desert of South Atlantic. It was our intention to go under the island and possibly to attempt a landing. But unfortunately, the motor had to be stopped for cleaning and this preventive are approaching it by daylight. We caught a glimpse of the land at dusk, which was at all events enough to check out chronometers. South of the 20th degree of latitude, the southeast trade was nearly done with and we were really not sorry to be rid of it. It remained light and scant to the last and sailing on a wind is not a strong point with the Fram. In the part of the ocean where we now were, there was a hope of getting good wind and it was wanted if we were to come out right. We had now covered 6,000 miles, but there was still 10,000 before us and the days went by with astonishing rapidity. The end of October brought the change we wanted. With the fresh, gnarly breeze, we went gallantly southward and before the end of the month, we were down latitude 40 degrees. Here we had reached the waters where we were almost certain to have all the wind we wished and from the right quarter. From now, our course was eastward along, what is known as the Southern West Wind Belt. This belt extends between the 40th and 50th parallels all around Earth and is distinguished by the constant occurrence of westerly winds, which as a rule, blow with great violence. We had put our trust in these West winds. If they failed us, we should be in a mess, but no sooner had we reached the domain than they were upon us with full force. It was no gentle treatment that we received, but the effect was excellent. We raised eastward. An intended call at Grove Island had to be abandoned. The sea was running too high for us to venture to approach the narrow little harbor. The month of October had put us all good deal behind hand, but now we were making up the distance we had lost. We had reckoned on being south of Cape of Good Hope within two months after leaving Madeira, and this turned out correct. The day we passed the meridian of Cape, we had the first regular gale. The seas ran threateningly high, but now for the first time, a splendid little ship showed what she was worth. A single one of these gigantic waves would have cleared our decks in an instant if it had not come on board, but the Fran did not permit any such importance. When they came up behind the vessel, and we might expect any moment to see them break over low after deck. She raised herself with such an elegant movement, and the wave had to be content with slipping underneath. And I hope the draws could not have made the situation better. It is said that the Fran was built for the eyes, and that cannot, of course, be denied, but at the same time it is certain that when Colin Archer created this famous masterpiece of an ice boat, she was just as much a masterpiece of the sea boat. A vessel it would be difficult to match for sea worthiness. To be able to avoid the seas as the Fran did, she had to roll, and this we had every opportunity of finding out. The whole long passage through the westerly belt was one continual rolling, but in course of time, one got used to that discomfort. It was awkwardly enough, but less disagreeable than shipping water. Perhaps it was for those who had to work in the galley. It is no laughing matter to be cooked when for weeks together, you cannot put down so much as a coffee cup without it's immediately turning a somersault. It requires both patience and strong will to carry it through, but the two, Lindstrom and Olson, who looked after our food under these difficult conditions, had the gift of taking it all from the humorous point of view, and that was well. As regard the dogs, it mattered little to them whether a gale or storm was blowing, so long as the rain kept off. They hate rain. Wet in any form is the worst one can offer an Arctic dog. The deck was wet, they would not lie down, but would remain standing motionless for hours, trying to take a nap in that uncomfortable position. Of course they did not get much sleep in that way, but to make up for it, they could sleep all day and all night when the weather was fine. South of the Cape we lost two dogs. They went overboard one dark night when the ship was rolling tremendously. We had a coal bunker on the port side after deck, reaching up to the height of bulwarks. Probably these fellows have been practicing boarding grill and lost their balance. We took precautions that the same thing should not happen again. Fortunately for our animals, the weather in the westerly belt was subject to very frequent changes. No doubt they had many a sleepless night with rain, sleet and hail, but on the other hand, they never had to wait for very long for a cheerful glimpse of the sun. The wind is for the most part of cyclonic character, shifting suddenly from one quarter to another and these shifts always involve a change of weather. When the barometer begins to fall, it is a sure warning of an approaching north westerly wind, which was always accompanied by precipitation and increases in force until the fall of the barometer seizes. When this occurs, there follows either a short pause or else the wind suddenly shifts to the southwest and blows from that quarter with increasing violence while the barometer rises rapidly. This change of wind is almost always followed by a clearing of the weather. A circumstance which contributes to an element of risk navigation in the latitudes where we found ourselves is the possibility of colliding with an iceberg in darkness or thick weather. For it sometimes happens that these sinister monsters in the course of their wanderings find their way well up into the forties. The probability of a collision is of course in itself not very great and it can be reduced to a minimum by taking proper precautions. At night, an attentive and practiced look-out man will always be able to see the blink of the eyes at a fairly long distance. From the time when we had to reckon with any likelihood of meeting icebergs, the temperature of the water was also taken every two hours during the night. As Kedjuelen Island lay almost dietly in the course we intended to follow, it was decided for several reasons that we should call there and pay a visit to the Norway veiling section. Laterally, many of the dogs had begun to grow thin and it seemed probable that this was owing to their not having enough fatty substances in their food. On Kedjuelen Island, there would presumably be an opportunity getting all the fat we wanted. As to water we had, it was true just enough to last us with economy, but it would not do us harm to fill up the tanks. I was also hoping there would be a chance of engaging three or four extra hands. But the frown would be rather short-handed with only 10 men to sail her out of eyes and around the horn to burnous airs after the rest of us had been landed on the barrier. Another reason for the contemplated visit was that it would be an agreeable diversion. We now only had to get there as quickly as possible and the west wind helped us splendidly. One stiff breeze succeeded another without our having any excessive weather. A daily distance at this time amounted as a rule to about 150 miles. In 124 hours, we made 174 miles. This was our best day's work of the whole voyage and it had no better performance for a vessel like the Fram with her limited sail area and her heavily laden hull. On the afternoon of November 28th, we sighted land. It was only a barren rocky knoll and according to our determination of the position, it would be the island called Glyskab, which lies a few miles north of Ketwellin Island. But as the weather was not very clear, we were unacquainted with the channels. We preferred to lie too for the night before approaching any nearer. Early next morning, the weather was clear and we got accurate bearings. A course was laid for a royal sound where we supposed the sailing station to be situated. We were going well in the fresh morning breeze and we're just about to round the last headland when all at once a gale sprang up. The bare and uninviting coast was hidden in heavy rain and we had the choice of waiting for an indefinite time or continuing our voyage. Without much hesitation, we chose the latter alternative. It might be tempting enough to come in contact with other men, especially as they were fellow countrymen. But it was even more tempting to have done with the remaining 4,000 miles that lay between us and the barrier as quickly as possible. It turned out that we had chosen rightly. December brought us a fair wind, even fresher than that of November. By the middle of the month, we had already covered half the distance between Camp Gwell and Island and our gold. We fortified the docks from time to time with the liberal allowance of butter which had a marvelous effect. It was nothing wrong with ourselves. We were all in the best of health and our spirits rose as we drew nearer our gold. But at the state of our health was so remarkably good during the whole voyage, must be ascribed in a material degree to the excellence of our provisions. During trip from home to Madeira, we had lived sumptuously on some little pigs that we took with us. But after these luxuries, we had to take to tin meat for good. The change was not felt much as we had excellent and palatable things with us. There was a separate service for the two cabins but the food was precisely the same in each. Breakfast was at eight, consisting of American hotcakes with marmalade or jam, cheese, fresh bread and coffee or cocoa. Dinner as a rule was composed of one dish of meat and sweets. As had already been said, we could not afford to have soup regularly. An account of the water it acquired and it was only served on Sundays. The second course usually consisted of Californian food. It was our aim all through to employ food, vegetables and jam to the greatest possible extent. There is undoubtedly no better means of avoiding sickness. At dinner, we always drank syrup and water. Every Wednesday and Saturday, we were treated to glass of spirits. I knew from my own experience how delicious a cup of coffee tastes when one turns out to go on watch at night. However sleepy and grumpy one may be, a gulp of hot coffee quickly makes a better man of one. Therefore coffee for the night watch was a permanent institution on both the front. By about Christmas, we had reached nearly the 150th meridian in latitude 56 degrees south. This left not much more than 900 miles before we might expect to meet with the pack eyes. A glorious West wind which had driven us forward for weeks and freed us from all the anxiety about arriving too late was now a thing of the past. For a change, we again had to contend for some days with calms and contrary wind. The day before Christmas Eve brought rain and a gale from the Southwest, which was not very cheerful. If we were to keep Christmas with any festivity, fine weather was wanted. Otherwise, the everlasting rolling would spoil all our attempts. No doubt we should all have got over it if it had fallen to our Lord to experience a Christmas Eve with the storm, short and sale and other delights. Worse things had happened before. On the other hand, there was not one of us who would not be the better for a little comfort and relaxation. Our life had been monotonous and commonplace enough for a long time. But as I said, the day before Christmas Eve was not all promising. The only sign of the approaching holiday was the pack that Lindstrom, in spite of the rolling, was busy baking Christmas cakes. We suggested that he might as well give us each our share at once, as it is well known that the cakes are the best when they come straight out of the oven. But Lindstrom would not hear of it. This cake vanished for the time being under lock and key and we had to be content with the smell of them. Christmas Eve arrived with fine weather and a smoother sea than we had seen for weeks. The ship was perfectly steady and there was nothing to prevent our making every preparation for the festivity. As the day wore on, Christmas was in full swing. The full cabin was washed and cleaned up until ripple and paint and the brush shone with equal brilliance. Ron decorated the workroom with signal flags and the good old happy Christmas greeted us in a transparency over the door of the saloon. Inside, Nilsson was busily engaged, showing greater talents as a decorator. The gramophone was rigged up in my cabin on a board hunk from the ceiling. Proposed concert of piano, violin and mandolin had to be abandoned as the piano was altogether out of tune. The various members of our little community appeared one after another dressed and tidied up so that many of them was castly recognizable. The stubbly chains were all smooth and that makes a great difference. At five o'clock, the engine was stopped and all the hands assembled on the four cabin leaving only the man at the wheel on the deck. Our cozy cabins had a fairy-like appearance in the subdued light of many colored lamps and we were all in the Christmas humor at once. The decorations were not honoured to him who had carried them out and to those who had given us the greater part of them. Mrs. Crore and the proprietor of Oyster cellar at Christiania, Mr. Ditlev Hansen. Then we took our seats around the table which ground beneath Lindstrom's masterpieces in the culinary art. I slipped behind the curtain of my cabin for an instant and set the gramophone going. Harold Sangas glade, June. The song did not fail of its effect. It was difficult to see in the subdued light but I fancy that among the band of hardy men that sat around the table, there was castly one who had not teared in the corner of his eye. The thoughts of all took the same direction. I am certain. They flew homeward to the old country in the north and we could wish nothing better than that those we had left behind should be as well off as ourselves. The melancholy feeling soon gave away to Gaiti and Lafter. In the course of the dinner, the first maid fired off a topical song written by himself which had an immense success. In each verse, the little weakness of someone present were exhibited in more or less strong relief and in between, there were marginal remarks and prose both in text and performance. The author fully attained the object of his work that of thoroughly exercising our visible muscles. In the after cabin, a well furnished coffee table was set out on which there was a large assortment of Lindstorm's Christmas baking with a mighty crans cake from Hansen Starring in the midst. While we were doing all possible honor to these luxuries, Lindstorm was fizzily engaged forward and when we went back after our coffee, we found there a beautiful Christmas tree in all its glory. The tree was an artificial one but so perfectly imitated that it might have come straight from the forest. This was also a present from Mrs. Croix. Then came the distribution of Christmas presents. Among the many kind friends who had thought of us as I must mention, the ladies' committee in Horton and Freedstad and the telephone employees of Christiania. They all have a claim in our warmest gratitude for the share they had in making our Christmas what it was, a bright memory of the long voyage. By 10 o'clock in the evening, the candles of Christmas tree were burnt out and the festivity was at an end. It had been successful from first to last and we all had something to live on in our thoughts and our everyday duties again claimed us. In that part of the voyage which we now had before us, the region between Australian continent and the Antarctic belt of Pachais, we were prepared for all sorts of trials in the way of unfavorable weather conditions. We had read and heard so much of what others had to face in these waters that we involuntarily connected them with all the horrors that may befall a sailor. Not that we had a moment's fear for the ship. We knew her well enough to be sure that it would take some very extraordinary weather to do her any harm. If we were afraid of anything, it was of delay. But we were spared either delay or any other trouble. By noon on Christmas day, we had just what was wanted to keep our spirits a festival pitch. A fresh Northwest early wind, it is strong enough to push us along the Hanson lead toward our destination. It afterwards hauled a little more to the west and lasted the greater part of Christmas week until on December 30th, we were in longitude 160 degree east and latitude 60 degree south. With that, we had class come far enough to the east and could now begin to stir a southerly course. Hardly have we put the helm over the wind changed to a stiff, northerly breeze. Nothing could possibly be better. In this way, it would not take us long to dispose of the remaining degree of latitude. Our faithful companions of the westerly belt, the albatrosses had now disappeared and we could soon begin to look out for the representatives of the wing inhabitants of Antarctica. After a careful consideration of the experiences of our predecessors, it was decided to lay a course so that we should cross the 65th parallel in longitude 175 degree east. What we had to do was to get as quickly as possible through the belt of pack eyes that blocked the way to the Ross Sea to the south pit. Which is always open in summer. Some ships had been detained as much as six weeks in this belt of eyes. Others had gone through in a few hours. We unhesitatingly preferred to follow the latter example and therefore took the course that the luckier ones had indicated. Of course, the width of ice belt may be subject to somewhat fortuitous changes but it seems nevertheless that as a rule the region between the 175th and the 180th degrees of longitude offers the best chance of getting through rapidly. In any case, one ought not to enter the ice farther to the west. At noon on New Year's Eve, we were in latitude 62 degree 15 South. We had reached the end of old year and really it had gone incredibly quickly. Like all its predecessors, the year had bought a share of successes and failure but the main thing was that at its close we found ourselves pretty nearly where we ought to be to make our good calculations and all safe and well. Conscious of this, we said goodbye to 1910 in all friendliness over a good glass of toddy in the evening and wished each other all possible luck in 1911. At three in the morning of New Year's Day, the officer of the watch called me with news that the first iceberg was inside. I had to go up and see it. Yes, there it lay far to inward, shining like a castle in the rays of the morning sun. It was a big, flat-topped berg of the typical Antarctic form. It will perhaps seem paradoxical when I say that we all greeted this first sight of ice with satisfaction and joy. An iceberg is usually the last thing to gladden Sailor's heart but we were not looking at just the risk then. The meeting with the imposing Colossus had another significance that had a stronger claim on our interest. The pack eyes could not be far off. We were all longing as one man to be in it. It would be a grand variation in the monotonous light we had led for so long in which we were beginning to be tired of. Nearly to be able to run a few yards on an ice flow appeared to us as an event of impotence and we rejoiced no less at the prospect of giving our dogs a good meal of sealed flesh. While we ourselves would have no objection to a little change of diet. The number of icebergs increased during the afternoon and night and with such neighbors it suited us very well to have daylight all through 24 hours as we now had. The weather could not have been better, fine and clear with the light but still favorable wind. At 8 p.m. on 2nd January, the Antarctic circle was crossed and then hour or two later, the crow's nest was able to report the ice belt ahead. For the time being it did not look like obstructing us to any greater extent. The flows were collected in long lines with broad channels of open water between them. We steered right in. Our position was then longitude 176 degree east and latitude 60 degree 30 south. The ice immediately stopped all swell. The vessel's deck again became a stable platform and after two months incessant exercise of our sea legs we could once more move about freely. That was a treat in itself. At 9 in the morning of the next day we had our first opportunity of seal hunting. A big wedded seal was observed on a floor right ahead. It took our approach with the utmost calmness not thinking it was worthwhile to budge an inch until a couple of riffle bullets had it convinced of the seriousness of the situation. It then made an attempt to reach the water but it was too late. Two men were already on the floor and the valuable spoil was secured. In the course of a quarter of an hour the bees lay on our deck, flayed and cut up by practiced hands. This gave us at one stroke at least 400 weight of dog food as well as a good many Russians for men. We made the same coop three times more in the course of the day and thus had over a ton of fresh meat and blubber. It needed scarcely to be said that there was a great feast on board that day. The dogs did their utmost to avail themselves of the opportunity. They simply ate till their legs could carry no more of them and we could grant them this gratification with a good conscience. As to ourselves it may doubtless be taken for granted that we observed some degree of moderation but dinner was polished off very quickly. Sealed steak had many ardent adherence already and it very soon gained more. Sealed soup in which our excellent vegetables showed to advantage was perhaps even more favorably received. For the first 24 hours after we entered the ice it was so loose that we were able to hold our course and keep up our speed for practically the whole time. On the two following days things did not go quite so smoothly. At times the lines of floors were fairly close and occasionally we had to go round. We did not meet with any considerable obstruction however. There were always openings enough to enable us to keep going. The course of January 6th a change took place. The floors became narrower and the leads broader. By 6 p.m. there was an open sea on every side as far as the eye could reach. The day's observations gave our position as latitude 70 degrees south and longitude 180 degrees east. A passage through the pack had been a four days pleasure trip and I have a suspicion that several among us looked back with secret regret to the cruise in smooth water through the ice floors and the swell of the open raw sea gave the Fram another chance of showing her rolling capabilities. But this last part of the voyage was also to be favored by fortune. These comparatively little known waters had no terrors to oppose us. The weather continued surprisingly fine. It could not have been better on a summer trip in the North Sea. Of icebergs there was practically none. A few quite small flow bergs were all we met in the four days we took to cross raw sea. But midday on Jan 11th a marked brightening of the southern sky announced that it was not far to the goal we had been struggling to reach for five months. At 2.30 p.m. we came inside of the great ice barrier. Slowly it rose up out of the sea until we were face to face with it in all its imposing majesty. It is difficult with the help of a pen to give any idea of the impression this mighty wall of ice makes on the observer who is confronted with it for the first time. It is altogether a thing which can hardly be described. But one can understand very well that this wall of 100 feet in height was regarded for a generation as an inseparable obstacle to further southward progress. We knew that the theory of barriers impregnability had long ago been overthrown. There was an opening to the unknown dream beyond this. This opening the Bay of Whales ought to lie according to the description before us. About 100 miles to the east of the position in which we were. Our course was altered to true east and during the cruise of 24 hours along the barrier we had every opportunity of marveling this gigantic work of nature. It was not without a certain feeling of suspense that we looked forward to our arrival at the harbor we were seeking. What stage should we find it in? Would it prove impossible to land at all conveniently? One point after another was passed but still our anxious eyes were met by nothing but the perpendicular wall at last on the afternoon of January 12th the wall opened. This agreed with our expectations. We were now in longitude 164 degrees the self-same point where our predecessors had previously found access. We had before us a great bay so deep that it was impossible to see the end of it from the crow's nest but for the moment there was no chance of getting in. The bay was full of great flows sea ice recently broken up. We therefore went on a little farther to the eastward to await developments. Next morning we return and after the lapse of a few hours the flows within the bay began to move. One after another they came sailing out the passage was soon free. As we steered up the bay we soon saw clearly that here we had every chance of affecting a landing. All we had to do was to choose the best place. End of section 10 end of volume 1 chapter 4 from Madera to the barrier Part 2 Recording by Naksha Section 11 of the South Pole This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recorded by Ken Campbell The South Pole by Raul Amundsen Translation by A.G. Carter Section 11 volume 1 chapter 5 On the Barrier Part 1 We had thus arrived on January 14th, a day earlier than we had reckoned at this vast mysterious natural phenomenon, the barrier. One of the most difficult problems of the expedition was solved. That of conveying our drought animals in sound condition to the field of operations. We had taken 97 dogs on board at Christensen. The number had now increased to 116 and practically all of these would be fit to serve in the final march to the south. The next great problem that confronted us was to find a suitable place on the barrier for our station. My idea had been to get everything equipment and provisions conveyed far enough into the barrier to secure us against the unpleasant possibility of drifting out into the Pacific in case the barrier should be inclined to clave. I had therefore fixed upon 10 miles as a suitable distance from the edge of the barrier. But even our first impression of the condition seemed to show that we should be spared a great part of this long and troublesome transport. Along its outer edge the barrier shows an even flat surface, but here inside the bay the conditions were entirely different. Even from the deck of the Fram we were able to observe the great disturbances of the surface in every direction. Huge ridges with hollows between them extending on all sides. The greatest elevation lay to the south in the form of a lofty arched ridge which we took to be about 500 feet high on the horizon. But it must be assumed that this ridge continued to rise beyond the range of vision. Our original hypothesis that this bay was due to the underlying lands seemed therefore to be immediately confirmed. It did not take long to moor the vessel to the fixed ice foot which here extended for about a mile and a quarter beyond the edge of the barrier. Everything had been got ready long before. Gallant had put our ski in order and every man had his right pairs fitted. Ski boots had long ago been tried on time after time, sometimes with one, sometimes with two pairs of stockings. Of course it turned out that the ski boots were on the small side. To get a bootmaker to make a roomy boot is I believe an absolute impossibility. However, with two pairs of stockings we could always get along in the neighborhood of the ship. For longer journeys we had canvas boots, as already mentioned. On the remainder of the outfit I need only mention the alpine ropes which had also been ready for some time. They were about 30 yards long and were made of very fine rope, soft as silk, especially suited for the use in low temperatures. After a hurried dinner for a set out, the first excursion was quite a solemn affair, so much depended on it. The weather was of the very best, calm with brilliant sunshine, and a few light feathery clouds in the beautiful pale blue sky. There was warmth in the air, which could be felt even on this immense ice field. Seals were lying around the ice foot as far as the eye could reach. Great fat mountains of flesh, food enough to last us and the dogs for years. The going was ideal. Our ski glided easily and pleasantly through the newly fallen loose snow. But none of us was exactly in training after the long five-month sea voyage, so that the pace was not great. After half an hour's march, we were already at the first important point, the connection between the sea ice and the barrier. This connection had always haunted our brains. What would it be like? A high perpendicular face of ice, of which we should have to haul our things laboriously with the help of tackles. Or a great and dangerous fissure, which we should not be able to cross without going a long way round. We naturally expected something of the sort. This mighty and terrible monster would, of course, offer resistance in some form or another. The Mystic Barrier. All accounts without exception, from the days of Ross to the present time, had spoken of this remarkable natural formation with apprehensive awe. It was as though one could always read between the lines the same sentence, hush, be quiet, the Mystic Barrier. One, two, three, and a little jump, and the barrier was surmounted. We looked at each other and smiled. Probably the same thought was in the minds of all of us. The monster had begun to lose something of its mystery. The terror, something of its force, the incomprehensible, was becoming quite easy to understand. Without striking a blow, we had entered into our kingdom. The barrier was at this spot, about 20 feet high, and the junction between it and the sea ice was completely filled up with driven snow, so that the ascent took the form of a little gentle slope. This spot would certainly offer us no resistance. If there were two, we had made our advance without a rope. The sea ice we knew would offer no hidden difficulties, but what would be the condition of the things beyond the barrier was another question. And as we all thought it would be better to have the ropes on before, we fell into a crevice, and afterwards, our further advance was made with a rope between the first two. We proceeded in an easterly direction up through the Little Valley, formed by Mount Nelson on one side and Mount Ironican on the other. The reader must not, however, imagine from these imposing names that we were walking between any formidable mountain ranges. Mount Nelson and Ironican were nothing but two old pressure ridges that had been formed in those far-off days when the mighty mass of ice had pushed on with awful force without meeting hindrance or resistance. Until at this spot it met a superior power that clove and splintered it and set a bound to its further advance. It must have been a frightful collision, like the end of the world. But now it was over, peace. An air of infinite peace lay over it all. Nelson and Ironican were only two pension veterans. Regarded as pressure ridges, they were huge, raising their highest summits over one hundred feet in the air. Here, in the valley, the surface round Nelson was quite filled up, while Ironican still showed a deep scar, a fissure or hollow. We approached cautiously. It was not easy to see how deep it was and whether it had an invisible connection with Nelson or the other side of the valley. But this was not the case. On a closer examination, this deep cleft proved to have a solid, filled up bottom. Between the ridges the surface was perfectly flat and offered an excellent sight for a dog camp. Captain Nielsen and I had worked out a kind of program of the work to be done, and in this it was decided that the dog should be brought on the barrier as quickly as possible, and there looked after by two men. We chose this place for the purpose. The old pressure ridges told the history of the spot plainly enough. We had no need to fear any kind of disturbance here. The site had the additional advantage that we could see the ship from it and would always be in communication with those on board. From here the valley turned slightly to the south. After having marked the spot where our first tent was to be set up, we continued our investigations. The valley sloped gradually upwards and reached the ridge at a height of 100 feet. From this elevation we had an excellent view over the valley we had been following, and all the other surroundings. On the north the barrier extended level and straight, apparently without interruption, and ended on the west in a steep descent of Cape Man's head, which formed the eastern limit of the inner part of the Bay of Whales, and afforded a stung little corner where we had found room for our ship. There lay the whole of the inner part of the Bay bounded on all sides by ice. Ice, nothing but ice barrier as far as we could see, white and blue. This spot no doubt would show a surprising play of color later on, and it promised well in this way. The ridge we were standing on was not broad, about 200 yards I think, and in many places it was swept quite bare by the wind, showing the blue ice itself. We passed over it and made for the pass of Thermopile, which extended in a southerly direction from the ridge, and after a very slight descent was merged in the Great Plain, surrounded by elevations on all sides, a basin in fact. The bare ridge we passed over to descend into the basin was a good deal broken up, but the fissures were narrow and almost entirely filled up again with drift so that they were not dangerous. The basin gave us the impression of being sheltered and cozy, and above all it looked safe and secure. This stretch of ice was, with the exception of a few quite small hummocks of the shape of hay cocks, perfectly flat and free from crevices. We crossed it and went up on the ridge that rose very gently on the south. From the top of this all was flat and even as far as we could see, but that was not saying much. For a little while we continued along the ridge in an easterly direction, without finding any place that was specially suited for our purpose. Our thoughts returned to the basin as the best sheltered place we had seen. From the height we were now on, we could look down onto the southeastern part of the Bay of Whales. In contrast to that part of the ice foot to which we had made fast, the inner bay seemed to consist of ice that had been forced up by pressure, but we had to leave a closer examination of this part till later. We all liked the basin and agreed to choose it as our future abode, and so we turned and went back again. It did not take long to reach the plain in our own tracks. After making a thorough examination of the surface and discussing the various possibilities, we came to the conclusion that a site for the hut was to be looked for on the little elevation that rose to the east. It seemed that we should be more snug there than anywhere else, and we were not mistaken. We soon made up our minds that we had chosen the best place the barrier had to offer. On the spot where the hut was to stand, we set up another ski pole, and then went home. The good news that we had already found a favorable place for the hut naturally caused great satisfaction on all sides. Everyone had been silently dreading the long and troublesome transport over the ice barrier. There was teeming life on the ice. Whenever we turned, we saw great herds of seals, wendels and crab eaters. The great sea leopard, which we had seen occasionally on the flows, was not to be found here. During our whole stay in the Bay of Wales, we did not see a single specimen of it, nor did we ever see the Ross Seal. Penguins had not shown themselves particularly often, only a few here and there, but we appreciated them all the more. The few we saw were almost all Adelaide penguins. While we were at work making the ship fast, a flock of them suddenly shot up out of the water and onto the ice. They looked about them in surprise for a moment. Men and ships do not come their way every day, but it seemed as if their astonishment soon gave way to a desire to see what was happening. They positively sat and studied all of our movements. Only now and then they grunted a little and took a turn over the ice. What specifically interested them was evidently our work at digging holes in the snow for grappinals. They flocked about the men who were engaged in this, laid their heads on one side, and looked as if they had found it immensely interesting. They did not appear to be the least afraid of us, and for the most part we left them in peace, but some of them had to lose their lives. We wanted them for our collection. An exciting seal hunt took place the same day. Three crab-eaters adventured 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 looked fine. I chuckled a laugh, but still with a certain decorum. Then there is a report. Two of the sleeping seals gave a little spasm, and do not move again. It is otherwise with the third. With snake-like movements it wiggled the way through the loose snow with surprising speed. It is no longer target practice, but hunting real game, and the result is keeping with it. Bang, bang, and bang again! It is a good thing we had plenty of ammunition. One of the hunters uses up all of his cartridges and has to go back, but the others set off and pursued at 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 with 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 his knees at every step, and in a short time was completely out-distance. 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, letting gray 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 a 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 be no thoughts 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 comprised of Nielsen, Gertsen, Beck and Sunbeck, Ludwig Hansen, Christensen, Ronny, Notvetkutsen and Olsen. The Land Party consisted of Prestud, Johansson, Helmer Hansen, Hansel, Bjarland, Stuberbund, Lindstrom and myself. Lindstrom 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 Ronnykin and Nielsen, while another party of two were to live in a tent up at the butt site and build the hut. The last two were, of course, our capable carpenters, Bjarland and Stuberbund. By eleven o'clock in the morning we were at least ready to start. We had one sledge, eight dogs and provisions and equipment weighing altogether six hundred and sixty 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 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 of 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 around 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 and 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 turmoil 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 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 Aranacan, a large strong tent for sixteen men, with a 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 kilometers, measured by the sledge meter. After finishing this work, we went up on the site, selected for the station. Here we set up the tent. The similar tent to the others for sixteen men, for the use of the carpenters and marked out the hut site. According to the lay of the ground, we elected to make the house face east and west, not north and south as one might have been tempted to do, since it was usually supposed that the most frequent and violent storms came from the south. We chose rightly. The prevailing wind was from the east and thus caught our house on the 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 to the vessel was 2.2 geographical miles or four kilometers. On Monday, January 16th, 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. Stuberans and Bialands 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 were really 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 we 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 harbor arrangements were not of the best. The quay she was moored to suddenly broke into 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 the nervating work, being always a one 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 good humor, 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 harbor must in other respects been 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 been told off as tent guard, for we could not use more than half our teams, six dogs at a time. If we harnessed a full team of twelve, we only had trouble in 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. End of Section 11 Recorded