The Ascent of Rum Doodle

ON THE FOLLOWING day we set off once more. Burley was too weak to leave his sleeping-bag so I sent Shute and Constant away together with their two porters, followed by Wish and Jungle with theirs. Before setting off myself I sent a runner with a despatch: ‘Reorganizing for second assault on North Wall. All fit and well. Team spirit beyond praise and the porters are excellent.’

That day’s work was truly phenomenal. On arriving at the foot of his ice slope Shute wisely decided to give his porters lessons in icecraft. He first showed them how to cut steps, then let them try it for themselves. They picked it up very quickly – so quickly, in fact, that Shute and Constant could hardly keep up with them. They mounted the steep slope as rapidly as they were able to climb in the rarefied atmosphere. Both said they had never seen anything like it. The porters showed no sign of tiring; they kept on and on, in spite of their full loads and the work of chipping steps in hard ice.

I arrived some hours later. By this time neither party was to be seen. I called Wish on the radio. He told me what had happened. He said that all the Europeans were on the verge of exhaustion due to the pace set by the porters. They would certainly reach the South Col. He advised me to go back to Base Camp and follow next day with all the equipment needed at Advanced Base. He particularly asked me not to forget the medical equipment, which was likely to be of more use there than at Lower Base.

So back I went to Base Camp, not sorry to have a chance to rest and to spend some friendly hours with Burley. My affection for this forthright giant had been growing ever since our first meeting. A leader should not have favourites, but I must confess that from all my companions I would have chosen Burley to share a tent with.

I found him in his sleeping-bag and said that I proposed to spend the night with him. He said it was kind of me, but he really thought that Prone needed me more than he did. Prone, he said, would be left quite alone at Base and would be happier during his lonely vigil if he had the memory of one night of companionship. This was very unselfish of him and, disappointed though I was, I could not but see that my duty was with the lonely one.

I apologized for my blunder, but said I was surprised to hear that he was married; Sir Hugeley had told me that he was a bachelor. Prone said that Sir Hugeley was welcome to his opinion on this, as on every other subject; but his own impression was different. I said that I supposed he found family life congenial. He said, on the contrary, he found it unsupportable.

I urged him to tell me more, saying that a trouble shared was a trouble halved. The poor fellow was reluctant at first, but I overcame his shyness and he told me his sad story. He was of poor family. His father was an unemployed oil-stroker of the old-fashioned sort with a strong pride in his craft and a horror of receiving charity. To send his son to medical college he forced himself to swallow his pride. Prone said that the daily sight of his father swallowing his pride had been the strongest impression of his early manhood. Not only did his father swallow his pride, he wore it to the bone for the sake of his son, drawing benefit from six different charities under eight different names, writing begging, threatening and anonymous letters, picking pockets, robbing mail-vans and women’s handbags, burgling houses, taking toffee from children and writing penitent articles for revivalist journalists. Such willing and grinding sacrifice had inspired the young Prone to dedicate himself to the fulfilment of his father’s desire. He resolved that no obstacle should prevent him from attaining the distant goal of GP.

After many years of devoted study his ambition was achieved. To provide the money for his purchase of a practice his father made the final sacrifice, accepting the honorary treasurership of a charitable organization which offered unlimited scope for embezzlement. Prone became a practising doctor.

His very first patient was a widow suffering from acute horror and malevolence due to reading her small son’s comics. She hated the young doctor at first sight and made up her horrible mind to marry him. She told him that unless he took her to wife she would accuse him publicly of having mislaid her medical card. Rather than risk disgrace and the shattering of his father’s dreams, Prone consented. They were married at Gravesend on Hallowe’en.

His married life had been a long martyrdom. His wife, he said, was a fiend in human shape. A gracious lady to the outside world, she was a devil to him. The things she did were too horrible to be mentioned. Their children, who numbered eight and one to come, were fitting offspring of such a monster, each more loathsome than the last – the one to come being, by a process of extrapolation, truly ghastly in his imagination. Nobody, said Prone, could possibly have the faintest idea of what he had gone through. His Saturday afternoons were nightmares.

I was deeply grieved by this pathetic story. I told Prone that he had my full sympathy and offered my help in any way which might be of use to him. He said that it was very kind of me; as a matter of fact there was one little thing I could do: he wished to test an anti-pester serum; did I mind if he tried it on me?

Next morning I rose late, feeling for some reason quite below par. I had the task of organizing the porters in Constant’s absence without understanding a word of their language. Luckily, the equipment was already prepared; all I had to do was to get hold of the porters one by one and lead them to their loads. It turned out, however, that they had their own ideas as to who was to carry what, and a good deal of confusion resulted. We were just ready by lunch time, when, of course, they all went off to eat. After lunch it all had to be gone through again, and it was quite late when we were at last ready to move off.

I had difficulty in persuading Prone to allow the medical equipment out of his hands, but he finally agreed to let me take it, after taking out anything which he himself might need. We had a long discussion about whether the champagne – which, of course, was part of the medical equipment – should be taken to the South Col. We compromised by leaving one case behind; he needed it particularly, he said, as he was about to contract anaemia.

We set off, after I had taken an affectionate farewell of Prone, and had gone only a little way when Burley overtook us. He did not like, he said, to see me going off alone, and as he was suddenly feeling much better he had decided to accompany me. He would, he said, be able to acclimatize more quickly on the Col.

I was both impressed by his fortitude and touched by his consideration. It may have been due to his kindness that I felt homesick that morning. I told Burley about my family and friends and showed him some photographs when we halted. The dear fellow was quite gruff – one might almost have said rude. He, too, was evidently feeling the pull of home and found it difficult to hide his feelings. I put a friendly hand on his shoulder, and he gave a little snort. That snort told me more than words could have expressed. I suspected that his decision to accompany me had been wrung out of him by a desire for my companionship, and that he wished to say something to me but could not find the words. So I said to him, kindly: ‘Is there anything you want to tell me, old chap?’ He said: ‘Don’t be a bloody fool!’ which, I thought, was eloquent of the dear fellow’s state of mind.

The rest of the day was a trudge up steps already cut in the steep ice. Fixed ropes had been put in the more difficult places, and we had little to do but mount steadily, maintaining the rhythm which is so necessary to high-altitude climbing. In spite of their heavy loads the porters showed no tendency to fall behind; they were doing splendidly.

In the late afternoon we strode up the last gentle slope to Advanced Base. There was no sign of life, but as we drew near the sound of loud snores from the four tents told us that our companions and their porters were recuperating after their strenuous efforts of the previous day.

We lost no time in pitching our tents, and soon Pong was busy over the pressure stoves. How he came to be at Advanced Base I was unable to decide; certainly I had had no intention of bringing him with me. I wondered, in one moment of ungallant suspicion, whether Prone had pushed him on to the end of our procession. It would have been an unBritish thing to do; but the temptation would be great, and a sick man might well be forgiven for yielding to it. I must say, in fairness to Prone, that he repudiates any such action. His theory is that Pong came along of his own initiative, being furious at the thought of losing so many victims.

Be that as it may, the others, when they emerged from their tents at the cry of ‘Come and get it!’ were, in their turn, furious when they recognized the familiar handiwork, and I am obliged to record that hard words were said. My plea of innocence was met by a counter-charge of incompetence, and dinner, besides being, as usual, the day’s worst ordeal, was also the occasion of acrimony.

It was clear to me that we were not yet acclimatized; and this was confirmed by the others. They had, they said, been completely worn out by the hard pace set by the porters in their step-cutting. They advised great caution in the employment of porters for this purpose; their brute strength and endurance was to be reckoned as one of the natural hazards of mountaineering in Yogistan.

This was a serious matter. There can be no doubt that the Yogistani is a natural mountaineer. When he becomes sufficiently civilized and educated to climb mountains voluntarily he may well be unapproachable. But so long as the initiative and the organizational responsibility rest with his Sahibs his undoubted powers must be kept under control. To reach the summit of Rum Doodle a partnership of brain and brawn was necessary; the brawn was indispensable, but it must be subordinated to the direction of the brain. We agreed that in future the porters should be restrained from endangering the health and safety of the party.

Before turning in that night I walked out to a small prominence above the camp to survey the view. The view was breathtaking. To the left North Doodle towered above the little camp, inhospitable and awe-inspiring. To the right the great shoulder of Rum Doodle itself soared above me, bleak and dreadful in the evening light. Below, on the glacier, Base Camp was a group of dots. The glacier wound away into the distance, losing itself among a chaos of snow-capped peaks and pinnacles. To the east a wilderness of desolation, extended, peak after mighty peak, as far as the eye could see. It was breathtaking. Spires and pinnacles soared skyward in profusion, taking one’s breath away.

Breathless, I returned to my tent, to find Burley already in his sleeping-bag and occupying three-quarters of the floor space. I wriggled into the remaining quarter as best I could, grateful for being no bigger than I am. Burley and I were together at last; I hoped that we would continue the confidences of the afternoon.

We lay in silence for a while, then I suggested that Burley might like to tell me about his fiancée. He said why? and I thought I detected a reticence. I said that talking about family and friends drew men closer together. He said that since I put it like that he didn’t mind telling me; but it was not an easy thing to talk about and I would understand that he was not in the habit of chattering about it to any busybody.

I said, of course, I quite understood, and would value his confidence all the more on that account. He told me that he had found his fiancée one Saturday afternoon behind the sideboard in his father’s dining room. She was slight and small and had a club-foot and a hare-lip and, consequently, a limp and a lisp. She was near-sighted and carried an ear-trumpet, being too nervous to use electrical equipment to aid her deafness. She was either colour-blind or had a bad memory for names. She was not very good-looking, but, as Burley said, one can’t have everything. She had been studying the structure of the sideboard on behalf of the local antiquarian society, but had unfortunately got stuck and had been there a fortnight when Burley found her, being either too timid to call for help or too weak to make herself heard. Burley had rescued her single-handed, and this had been the turning-point of his life. He had, he said, realized at last his boyhood dream of rescuing a maiden in distress, and felt bound to fall in love with her. This he had done. She had, he said, many admirable qualities, which were none the less admirable for being hidden from the casual view. He himself was not sure what they were, which, besides giving him a sense of mystery and adventure, was proof of their delicacy. The finer qualities, he said, are never the obvious ones.

I said that I heartily agreed with him. I said also that I was touched by his story, which revealed a refinement which the unthinking would not think to find in one of his physique. I was moved to confess my affection for him and to express the hope that he and his fiancée would visit me at home.

His answer was a loud snore. Poor fellow, he must have been worn out. I made myself as comfortable as I could in my restricted space and occupied a sleepless night meditating on many things and looking forward to tomorrow’s escape from Pong. Notwithstanding my discomfort it was one of the happiest nights I have ever spent. The expedition was going well; we were a united and happy party; the porters were splendid; I was with my friends. What more could a man want?