The Waves of November
The strong winds and high waves of November began in late October, and Roald Amundsen marveled at how the dogs had learned to adapt to them and to the ship’s subsequent rolling. “They are better than us,” 1 he wrote on October 30, 1910, in his diary (Amundsen Expedition Diary). Nevertheless, there were times when the dogs miscalculated the timing of the ship’s next roll and subsequently were at risk of injuring their legs. Added to this was the large amounts of water washing in over the ship, which greatly increased the dogs’ discomfort. The Fram’s crew tried to accommodate the sled dogs, chaining up only those who were situated far enough away from the incoming water, and had room to move around, and leaving free those who were closer to the water spray, so that they could move and avoid the moisture and the swells as much as possible. At this time, Amundsen was also ready to bid farewell to the two boats attached to the fore of the ship, as their attachments were being strained due to the tossing and rolling of the ship, and they could not be brought onto the safety of the deck because of the dogs’ presence there (Amundsen Expedition Diary). Such was his sacrifice for the sled dogs.
On the following day, the last day of October, the Fram reached the “roaring forties” 2 – 40° south lateral – and Amundsen gave up on his tentative plan to seek water and supplies at Gough Island, a stop he had been considering making (Amundsen Expedition Diary). It would disrupt his timing, he felt. So, on the ship traveled. The dogs were let loose again that day, some of them now even without muzzles, as the muzzles had begun to fall off, and the dogs were becoming accustomed to being around the men and each other (Hassel 2011).
By November 1, the dogs were free of their muzzles altogether “and behave excellently”, said Amundsen. 3 The temperature had now dipped to 10.8° Celsius, and the men began to cover themselves again with additional and heavier clothing. By now, the Fram itself had covered quite a bit of water and was halfway between Norway and Antarctica. Another 2 months and the expedition would be at the ice. But it would also be another 2 months of tough sailing for the dogs. Amundsen observed the difficulties the dogs were now having in the dark rain and the dark nights, with many of them trembling and shaking and freezing during the night.
The tough times proved to be too much for one of the mothers. Eva’s strength gave out, and so did her life, on November 2. She had been painfully thin and weak and had borne ten puppies 9 days prior, four of whom she had been busy nursing, when, on that evening, she began to convulse and shake, collapsing and dying immediately. Amundsen was nothing but sympathetic, sadly marking her death as the second on the ship and describing her as a bashful dog who ate very little and took good care of her puppies, who in turn were in extremely great shape. He attributed her death to physical weakness resulting from nursing four growing puppies and from not eating enough herself, which also resulted in her not having enough milk. Thorvald Nilsen, on the other hand, at first professed complete mystification as to why his dog Eva had died. It was he who played foster parent to the young and midwife to the mothers and tended to the nursery built next to the bridge. Nilsen stated that sweet and docile Eva had seemed well in the morning but by evening was dead and was buried at sea (although he described her physical departure as becoming food for the fish). He did conjecture that possibly she did not have the strength to nurse four puppies, who still had not yet opened their eyes when she died. Hjalmar Fredrik Gjertsen, Fram’s first mate, described a terrible death scene of violent shaking from unknown causes (although he had Eva’s gender wrong). Eva’s puppies were now motherless, and initial efforts were made to bottle-feed these four young ones, with Martin Rønne making special feeding teats and Nilsen playing nurse with a bottle. But a better solution was achieved when one of the other mothers, Ester – who had borne three males on October 19 but had since lost two from accidental suffocation – assumed the responsibility of nursing Eva’s four orphans. Amundsen made it a point to provide Ester with proper nutrition so she could feed her own and Eva’s puppies – a combined five dependents. Condensed milk was now added to the menu. Nilsen began to feed Ester and the other nursing females one can of condensed milk a day to supplement their diet. In addition, all the females and puppies were now being fortified each day with a kilo each of a special mixture made from cornmeal, fat, flour, and milk. This was apart from the dried fish and dænge that all the dogs continued to eat. The two liters of water that the dogs were receiving daily, however, were still insufficient to quench their thirst (Amundsen Expedition Diary; Nilsen 2011; Gjertsen 2011; Hassel 2011; Rønne 2011; Prestrud 2011).
Adding to the dogs’ challenges and hardships was the never-ending heaving and rolling of the ship, which truly tormented the dogs. Despite Amundsen and his crew’s efforts to avoid the swells, the violent waves still came and forcefully rammed against the ship, which dipped its bow to the sea’s every call and whim, so that the passengers were thrown about haphazardly. “Poor dogs!” wrote Amundsen on November 3, describing how difficult the circumstances were for the dogs and how they would “stumble back and forth,” colliding with one another and lashing out at each other as they did so, perceiving each violent push of the waves to be a “personal insult” and a physical affront from their neighbor. 4 On these types of nights, it was not possible for the dogs to obtain any rest or any sleep, and they sought the best comfort they could, which was a position on the bridge, where 50 dogs would congregate all together in its relative stability, supporting themselves and one another as best as they could.
The dogs were loose at this time, without chains and without muzzles, and free to seek out the best position for themselves on the ship during terrible weather. Each dog had a favorite place to stay or a favored crewmember to follow.
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 of the after-deck, reaching up to the height of the bulwarks; probably these fellows had been practising boarding drill, and lost their balance. We took precautions that the same thing should not happen again.
The event must have made an impression on the crew, and a lesson indeed was drawn from this tragedy, as Amundsen directed his crew to close up any gaps along the deck so as to avoid any more such fatalities (Amundsen Expedition Diary). Furthermore, the dogs were again tied up during the night so as to prevent any more falling overboard from the rocking ship and being taken away in a sea wave (Hassel 2011). Gjertsen (2011) expressed surprise that this had not happened more often to more dogs – such was their tenuous hold on the deck of the ship.
Waves, rain, and incessant wetness persisted following the accident, with the dogs helplessly battling and fighting among themselves. To alleviate their thirst, at least, Amundsen devised a new meal schedule wherein they received their water immediately following their dried fish food, rather than 8 h later. The thirsting pups had been so parched they would drink the salt-filled seawater, which would make everything even worse (Amundsen Expedition Diary). The one-time feeding and watering per day now occurred at 12:30 after noon and alleviated both the dogs’ thirst and the men’s efforts, as the crew could now combine two noisy and frenetic tasks into one (Rønne 2011; Hassel 2011; Nilsen 2011; Prestrud 2011). Water was valuable, and the men had to resort to washing themselves with seawater, as every drop of rainwater was needed for drinking by the dogs and men (Johansen Expedition Diary). The rainwater was now being collected in the ship’s old empty petroleum tanks, where the dogs would drink, but as the tanks rusted out, the dogs ingested the increasingly iron-red water, and the result was iron in their excrement, which was described by Amundsen as “hard and black-green”; when discussing recent deviations of the compass, Martin Rønne, who assisted Amundsen with his dogs, remarked jokingly that the ship’s compass deviation was a result of the fact that “the dogs defecate iron everywhere,” 7 a remark that both Amundsen and Hjalmar Johansen 8 found highly amusing and reported in their diaries (Johansen Expedition Diary).
Lack of water was no laughing matter, however, and, by this time of early November, the dogs were also beginning to lose weight, so much so that Amundsen increased the frequency of the fish-fat-flour feedings of dænge (fish cooked with 30 kilograms of fat and 30 kilograms of flour) to every other day. The wetter and colder weather may have contributed to the dogs’ growing thin, as they continued to freeze and shiver from the rain and shed pounds at an alarming rate. Amundsen at this time decided to do something which, for him, was desperate: He decided to stop at Kerguelen Island, at the whaling station located there, in order to obtain whale fat, fresh food, and water for his dogs (Amundsen Expedition Diary; Hassel 2011; Nilsen 2011; Gjertsen 2011). A chorus of agreement seems to echo from the men’s diary entries about this decision, as it seems that the dogs very much needed these provisions. As Kerguelen was still a distance away, however, on November 9, Amundsen also began to give the dogs pure fat in the form of “Agra Gjoa Margarine.” 9 A large chunk of this butter – 1/6 kilo – was administered every day to each dog and went down smoothly, as the dogs simply loved it and ate it hungrily (Prestrud 2011; Hassel 2011; Nilsen 2011; Gjertsen 2011). Amundsen and his men hoped this would help the thinning dogs gain back their weight. By the middle of the month, the dogs had improved, in that they were getting fatter, and Amundsen was congratulating himself for having diagnosed the problem correctly, and having prescribed fat as the best remedy (Amundsen Expedition Diary).
The puppies, during this time, continued to increase – and to decrease. At last count, with the birth of Lolla’s 5 puppies, there had been 26 young ones. The puppies were under the care of Lt. Nilsen, who took over tending to the mothers, the births, and the puppies. Nilsen fostered a nursery full of newborns and was complimented by Amundsen for his diverse interests and industriousness. The second-in-command wrote lovingly of the dogs, describing the puppies’ adorable antics and exclaiming how the puppies of one of the mothers (who is listed in the diary as Siv but who most likely is Sara) were growing large and beautiful. Nilsen took personal charge of feeding the mothers as well as the puppies. So, it was especially distressing to him when, in early November, one of Kaisa’s puppies was found dead (Nilsen 2011). Kaisa was the female who had had four males on October 26. The death was not reported by Amundsen, but by Nilsen only, who proclaimed Kaisa an unfit mother and stated that she had allowed her puppy to perish from malnourishment. On November 5, Nilsen was doubly distressed when another one of Kaisa’s puppies went missing – this time, it appeared that the puppy had been eaten. Both Nilsen and Amundsen reported this death, with Amundsen promptly accusing Kaisa of eating her own newborn, who was a large and good-looking puppy. “‘Kaisa’ is our biggest bitch,” 10 he wrote, noting that she had a big appetite to match and that, although she had seemed to be content with her puppies, the bloodstains they had found around her house, and the disappearance of her third puppy, pointed to the fact that she had consumed her young. What confirmed the theory, in his mind, was her refusal to eat that day. Thus, Amundsen deduced that Kaisa was a killer. But Kaisa had been unjustly accused. For a mere few days later, another one of Kaisa’s puppies went missing – he, too, had been eaten – and, this time, the evidence pointed elsewhere. “It’s a dog by the name of Jakop,” wrote Amundsen, and this time they had caught him in the act of committing the heinous crime, for which “He got his comeuppance.” 11 Amundsen described Jakop (also called Jakob) as a smart and great-looking dog who was “unreliable” and, in his longing for fresh food, resorted to ungodly methods. According to Gjertsen, Jakob, who was large and powerful, received a severe beating for his murdering ways (Gjertsen 2011; Rønne 2011). And Hassel (2011) reported that, as a result of eating Kaisa’s puppies, Jakob became the only dog to be tied up continuously on the ship.
Jakob was reported to be the brother of Isak, the dog who had broken his leg the previous month and who, with Wisting’s and Gjertsen’s ministrations, was now miraculously recovering, despite his being tossed to and fro during the rocking of the ship and despite his tendency to try to use the leg. Jakob and Isak must have looked very much alike, as even Bjaaland confused the two, calling Isak by Jakob’s name when reporting on Isak’s broken leg and the good progress he was making on November 15 (Bjaaland 2011). Isak had been described by Amundsen and Gjertsen as very friendly, whereas Jakob, one might say, was his evil twin, who had helped himself to two of Kaisa’s puppies. Amundsen, later that month, called Jakob a “cannibal” and an abomination, whose eyes would light up whenever he saw “a little fat young one” on board the ship, and that this truly was a shame, as he was “a strong, fine dog to look at.” 12 Johansen thought that he understood the vicious cycle in which Jakob found himself. As a result of killing the puppies, and because, according to Johansen, “beating does not improve it,” Jakob “constantly has to be tied up” on the ship – “It is on the other hand a stout dog, and it probably finds being deprived of its freedom rather bitter, when it sees [its/his] mates walk freely about.” 13 (Johansen’s language reflects some of the crewmembers’ references to the dogs as “it” rather than “he” or “she”; others referred to them as “units” of measurement; when naming them, some of the men used quotation marks around the name, others didn’t – Amundsen and Johansen themselves were inconsistent in this.)
As for Kaisa, she was now left with only one son – Kaisagutten (which means “Kaisa’s Boy”). Amundsen would not refrain from criticizing her, however. Later, in his book The South Pole, he would again accuse her of eating a puppy – this time, the incident is described as happening during the preparations for winter in Antarctica, and the victim is described as “a three-month-old pup,” with the men arriving on the scene just in time to see “the tip of its tail disappearing” (Amundsen 1912, vol. 1: 261). But this accusation is made only in his book and does not seem to appear anywhere else in any of the diaries. Possibly, again, it was an enhanced documentation for the titillation and benefit of the reader.
The final births to occur during the month of November took place on the 11th, which was an especially stormy day. The fresh breeze from the southwest had turned into a raging storm by 5:00 in the morning. The dogs took cover and hid themselves throughout the ship, squeezing themselves into any space they could find. Fifty huddled together on the bridge, tucking themselves in where it was relatively dry. Another 20 found shelter in the chart house. Others sought corners and cases and bins. According to Amundsen (Amundsen Expedition Diary), there was a quiet stillness throughout the ship, and no dogs could be found on the main deck. One would think the Fram had no dogs, he said. What gave them away on this particular morning was a fight between two dogs vying for shelter under the same writing table. It was very loud. But it was the only disturbance.
The disturbance, however, seemed to have been more prominent for Bjaaland (2011), who wrote that the dogs fought and bit wildly.
In the midst of the howling storm, which had brought with it driving snow and hail, and in the midst of the quiet stillness of the over 100 hidden dogs, on that morning, Else had her puppies (Hassel 2011; Nilsen 2011; Rønne 2011). Hassel and Nilsen reported nine puppies born, but Amundsen reported eight. (Rønne erroneously reported six.) All three men, however, agreed on the number of puppies that were male: One. So, the female puppies – eight according to Hassel and Nilsen and seven according to Amundsen – were thrown into the stormy sea. They “were ladies and got the usual treatment,” said Amundsen. 14 The lucky puppy – the one born male – was kept and named, appropriately, Storm. Years later, Storm would become a name to remember – as this particular sled dog would go on to save human lives.
By now, with the addition of Else’s one puppy, and the death of Kaisa’s three puppies, there were 24 puppies on board. Both Amundsen and Nilsen were enamored of the puppies. On the day following Storm’s birth, Amundsen (Expedition Diary) wrote of how adorable the youngest puppies were and how they frolicked about on board the ship. He described how Sara and her four puppies resided near the smithy where second engineer Jakob (Jacob) Nødtvedt worked – and how Sara’s youngsters were the handsomest of all. He also quoted Nilsen, who had described how the puppies amused him greatly as they sweetly, and with tender love, licked each other’s mouths after drinking milk and then broke out into little fights when the milk was gone.
As for the adult dogs, they now numbered 93, as the deaths of Klokkeren, Eva, Maren, and Balder had taken away four of the original 97. Together, the adults and puppies made up a population of 117 dogs on board the ship. This would be the highest number of dogs alive on the expedition. This number was confirmed by both Nilsen (2011) and Gjertsen (2011), as well as Amundsen, who exclaimed, in his November 12 letter to his brother, that the 24 puppies “will be in full vigor when the main excursion begins next year,” and that, with both the adults and the puppies on the South Pole expedition, “the prospects are the best.” 15
The Fram was by now in the Indian Ocean, and the rain was still coming down on the ship and on the dogs, who concealed themselves as best they could. The dogs were all cold and wet, and most of them were trying to squeeze into the chart house each night for dry shelter and warmth. Every nook and cranny on the ship was sought after, but the chart house was the special favorite place, and, as first mate Hjalmar Fredrik Gjertsen described the scene, the dogs would line up outside the entrance as if they were waiting to see a show at a theater. Although Amundsen now allowed them to freely seek shelter there, the dogs approached the chart house stealthily and shamefacedly, as though they were doing something wrong and did not belong there. Upon reaching the door, they would gradually squeeze their bodies in through the entrance until they could jump in completely, only to be fought off by the canine inhabitants within the chart house who had already staked their claim and occupied their place there – on a wicker chair, on the table, underneath the table, and along the floor. Fights would then ensue – one fight in particular sent a lamp flying with glass breaking along the deck and spraying shards along the backs of the slumbering dogs, who then in turn joined the battle. According to Gjertsen, when fights like this broke out between two dogs, the majority of the dogs standing in attendance and observing the fight would quickly ascertain who the losing party was and attack that unfortunate dog. But overall, according to Martin Rønne, the dogs were good and had ceased to bite. Yes, they would fight when the rolling ship caused them to roll into each other, as they blamed the dog standing next to them for that rolling. But they had grown accustomed to the other dogs and to the men, and they would congregate peacefully as the men worked. Rønne would enter the chart house and find himself surrounded by dogs, some of whom had become permanent residents of the instrument room. These included Nilsen’s dog Adam; Johansen’s dog – and the first mother on the ship – Camilla; the friends Hans, Togo, Mikkel, and Skøieren; Bjaaland’s ill and still-recovering dog, Dødsengelen (“The Angel of Death”); and another ill and recovering dog whom Rønne identifies as Sjøliget but who most likely is Johansen’s Liket (“The Corpse”), whom Nilsen also specifically mentions, along with Dødsengelen, as not faring very well at this time. These dogs would press in on Rønne, who, sitting at work in the chart house, would barely be able to move. As the eventual fight broke out, he would find himself beating the dogs, he reported, but to no avail, as nothing could control what he described as these large and unmanageable animals. Still, he admitted, the dogs behaved themselves quite well (Gjertsen 2011; Nilsen 2011; Rønne 2011).
Although Amundsen depicted Rønne as constantly grumbling about the dogs and humorously being annoyed by their presence on the ship, Rønne was actually quite observant of the sled dogs and quite prolific in writing about them in his diary. He showed a surprising level of faithfulness in reporting about both the adults and the puppies aboard the ship and in naming them as individuals. There is a photo that shows Rønne working at a sewing machine on the ship, with Amundsen seated beside him, most likely in conversation, and several dogs sleeping at their feet along the deck. This image reflects the close intimacy Rønne had with his work and the dogs. As the expedition’s sail-maker, Rønne was the man who sewed the tents for the wintering party that would make the trek across Antarctica. This included the famous tent that would be left by Amundsen at the South Pole to greet the disappointed Robert Falcon Scott upon his second-place arrival. Rønne would later recognize the dogs for fulfilling their part in the Norwegians’ being the first to reach the South Pole.
“The Animals We Have Are Splendid…”
At this very same time, in Christchurch, New Zealand, on November 14, 1910, at the British Antarctic Expedition temporary headquarters, a bewildered Captain Robert Falcon Scott was intently writing a personal letter addressed to Fridtjof Nansen. The four-page-long letter was handwritten in Scott’s unique handwriting, sprawled across less ornate letterhead than the Fram’s, but nonetheless quite bold (Scott Letter of Correspondence).
My Dear Dr. Nansen,
My telegram to ask Amundsen’s intentions may need some explanation. I have just received your answer “unknown”. On my arrival at Melbourne I received a telegram from Amundsen dated Christiania October 3rd. “Fram proceeding to Antarctic.” On November 4th I received a telegram from England “Hear Fram going direct McMurdo”. Since that one or two of my people have called my attention to newspaper notices which support that rumour.
As you can imagine it is very difficult to get accurate information in this part of the world and having no information beyond that which I have mentioned I thought it best to communicate with you. I must thank you for having responded so promptly. It is evident that Amundsen has left everyone in ignorance of his intentions and if that is so I am sure you will agree with me in deploring this fact. I do not believe this information that he is going to McMurdo Sound. The idea seems to be preposterous in view of his record. But the fact that he departs with so much mystery leaves me with the uncomfortable feeling that he contemplates something which he imagines we should not approve. However it’s no use discussing this matter till more is known. I hope to sail on the 25th and to be in the ice early in December. Everything has worked out well and the spirit of enthusiasm in my party is very fine. As you know this expedition is on a very big scale – I may have made a mistake in having such an extensive organization but I am most anxious to get really good scientific results and for that one ought to have a number of experts. –––– As to the travelling we might have improved matters by having more dogs and fewer ponies – it is difficult to say. The animals we have are splendid and all in good condition.
My wife joins me in sending our kindest regards. We cherish our pleasant memories of your kindness to us in Norway.
With every good wish
Yours most sincerely,
Robert Falcon Scott 16
[Emphasis is author’s.]
One can almost hear the perplexed fury in Scott’s voice regarding the perceived nefariousness and the “mystery” with which Amundsen conducted himself. But the poignancy of Scott’s words regarding the question of whether he should have used “more dogs and fewer ponies,” and regarding his assertion that “The animals we have are splendid”, is heartbreaking – both for the men who later bravely and painfully perished and for the animals who died a slow death, not being able to adapt to the ice and snow.
Dances with Dogs
Back on the Fram, at this same time in mid-November, the very adept Arctic animals on board the ship were still battling the sea waves, as the Fram danced on the water and the dogs danced with it.
Rønne (2011) reported dogs rolling across the deck and some falling through openings to the lower deck. On November 15, Idioten, one of Bjaaland’s dogs, actually fell 16 ft down into the hold but managed to survive unscathed. When Rønne attempted to bring the dog back up to the deck, Idioten resisted and struggled against returning – he preferred to remain in the hold and feast on fat that he had found stored there in a barrel. Approximately a week later, another dog was found lying in the forward hold, nestled among the crates and stacks of supplies. He had fallen 20 ft, and no one knew how long he had been reposing in this position, but he was uninjured. Rønne promptly dragged the dog back up to the main deck.
The men, too, were tossed about and had to resort to acrobatic maneuvers to at least keep their stance on the deck, if not remain upright. On one particularly challenging day – November 21 – with Fram rolling and dipping upon the big waves, feeding time for the dogs meant Rønne lying flat on his belly and spooning the food into a large container, while Amundsen crawled on all fours to feed his dogs on the bridge. The dogs themselves had to be chained to the bridge to allow this feeding to take place (Rønne 2011).
As the continuous rolling upended canines and humans alike, the crew also had to perform acrobatic moves to prepare the food in the galley and to work on the sledging equipment on the deck (Amundsen Expedition Diary). The dogs were let loose about the ship so that they could try to find their footing without fighting and seek a dry place to hide from the rain – although this was nearly impossible. Gjertsen (2011) describes the dogs as being the victims of a trifecta of misery: rolling ship, pouring rain, and water-filled deck. Their paws became very painful from the incessantly damp deck, and the dogs would helplessly raise their paws with a look of pure perplexment as to where to place them. Amundsen, too, reported on the suffering of the dogs in the lamentably wet conditions and their inability to get any rest. Beginning on the 15th of the month, he helped the dogs out by turning the now-empty coal bins into housing for the dogs, as the coal that had been stored there was now completely used and the large sleds that had been hiding underneath were brought out for preparation (Amundsen Expedition Diary). As of November 21, the dogs’ houses were situated near the pump on the port side adjacent to the chart house and on the stern deck on the port side. The former was avoided by the dogs, however, as it was the prime place to be bathed in the water coming into the vessel; the latter was preferred and more popular (Gjertsen 2011).
November 19 marked the beginning of a brief clearing in the weather. It also marked the crew’s first sightings of penguins. The ship had just passed Prince Edward Island (Amundsen Expedition Diary). The following day, November 20, was a brilliantly sunny day with blue sky, mild breeze, and a small amount of heat – enough to cause the dogs to begin panting again slightly (Hassel 2011). The weather was calm, and the beautiful day offered a brief respite from the dancing of the ship upon the waves. To celebrate, first mate Gjertsen and sail maker Rønne decided to have a proper dance – with the dogs. And so, after dinner, in a little impromptu concert ball, ice pilot Andreas Beck played his violin on the stern deck, and Gjertsen and Rønne danced with their partners Sauen (“The Sheep”) and Ester, while Amundsen took photos (Gjertsen 2011; Bjaaland 2011). Sauen was one of the dogs cared for by Jørgen Stubberud, and Ester was one of the mothers who was now caring for five puppies (her own plus Eva’s adopted four). One of Amundsen’s photographs shows the two puzzled pups pulled up onto their hind legs and dancing cheek-to-cheek with the two men. The two sled dogs participated amiably – they allowed the men to dance the evening away.
One of those dancing dogs – Ester – and some of the other mothers, who had been nursing their puppies, had by now become severely injured from their growing pups’ ever-sharpening teeth (Nilsen 2011). Amundsen reported that the mothers’ paws were being bitten to such an extreme degree “that the poor creatures could no longer cope with it.” 17 Their paws had become sore-filled and painfully swollen. For this reason, 4 days after the dance, the one puppy of Ester, along with the four puppies of the deceased Eva, who were now nursing with Ester, and the four puppies of Sara – nine in total – were all moved away from the two mothers and placed together in their own house, to be weaned and fed sweet condensed milk – which Amundsen emphatically insisted they loved – by Nilsen, who would also train the puppies.
Amundsen’s preoccupation with the puppies, and his fascination with their treatment of their own feces, led to some peculiar observations of the “poop” on the deck, which did not end with his eying the iron-enriched excrement left by the dogs but also expanded to other areas. Maren’s son Funcho was the subject of one of those extended diary entries, in which Amundsen focuses on the young pup’s eating of his comrade’s excrement, calling the episode “a quite interesting experience.” 18 Camilla’s “Little ‘Kamillo’” 19 also was the subject of yet another diary entry, in which Amundsen commits to posterity the detailed description of the puppy urgently eating his own excrement as he was in the process of producing it, calling that episode an “extremely comic occurrence.” Amundsen had a great curiosity about the dogs’ elimination techniques.
It was fortuitous that the puppies were receiving milk, for water was still in short supply, and the ship was still making its way to Kerguelen. By November 22, the Fram had passed the 50th meridian east, and the weather was delivering snow and rain (Amundsen Expedition Diary). The seas, in response, rocked the Fram, and the ship’s response was to roll.
Amundsen set about writing a brief and concise letter to his mentor Fridtjof Nansen on November 25, highlighting the most important points about his trip, which included the facts that both the men and the dogs were “healthy” and that his originally 97 dogs had grown to 117 by this time. 20 He was planning to send this letter, as well as the others he had written, from the whaling station at Kerguelen, which he anticipated reaching in 3 days, he wrote to Nansen, and from where he would acquire “water and fresh meat.”
But the stop at Kerguelen was not to be. The Fram came upon bad weather on November 28, which Amundsen forecasted would force the ship to drift until it could come in to harbor, and Amundsen was not keen on drifting away, or drifting in wait – “Waiting for the uncertain is the worst I know,” he wrote in his diary on the 29th. “Better[,] then[,] to speed up and get to the ice quickly.” So, by the end of the month of November, calculating that they had enough water for the remaining journey – 12 tons for 60 days, based on 200 liters consumed per day, after which the dogs’ water ration would have to be reduced to 1 liter per day rather than 2, but with the estimated time of arrival in Antarctica being 1 month from hence – Amundsen decided not to stop at Kerguelen. They had enough water, he concluded – “it will be fine.” 21
Hassel (2011) conveyed, in his diary, the men’s great disappointment at having passed up Kerguelen, stating in his November 30 entry that, besides providing a respite from the journey, and an opportunity to send letters and receive news from the world, the stop would have allowed the men to obtain fresh meat for the dogs and to refill the ship’s tanks with drinking water. They would now have to make the water – 10 tons by Hassel’s count – last for the remainder of the journey, as they continued to give the dogs 2 liters each per day. Nilsen (2011) echoed Hassel’s attempts at calculating the remaining water, summarizing that, in the 3 months since leaving Madeira, they had consumed one-quarter ton of water each day, with 200 liters going to the dogs and 50 liters going to the men. It is evident that the men were counting the liters of water and the amount of meat left to sustain them.
As prepared as Amundsen had always been, this risk he decided to take on November 29 – bypassing Kerguelen and intentionally forfeiting the last chance to acquire water and food – must have agonized him. His detailed writing about this dilemma and his calculations – and recalculations – regarding the amount of water available for the dogs seem to be an attempt at justifying and rationalizing his actions. In terms of timing, however, perhaps his decision was prescient. For, on that very day, Robert Falcon Scott’s ship set sail from New Zealand toward Antarctica. The race was joined. And for Amundsen, at the bottom of everything he had done, at the core of his actions, was the need to reach the ice – to be the first and the fastest. The trek across the ice and to the South Pole was his one focus and the raison d’être of the dogs.
Dog Chart: The First Deaths of Dogs on the Fram and the Increase of the Ship’s Canine Complement from 97 to 117 Dogs and Puppies, as of November 30, 1910
Of the 97 Greenland dogs who boarded Roald Amundsen’s Fram in August 1910 in Norway, 4 adults perished on the ship during the journey, leaving 93 adults.
Klokkeren (“The Bell Ringer”) – on October 26, 1910, of an unknown illness
Eva – on November 2, 1910, of childbirth and exhaustion
Maren – on the night of November 3, 1910, from being washed overboard
Balder – on the night of November 3, 1910, from being washed overboard
= 4 deaths on the ship
From the original 97 dogs
= 93 adult dogs alive on the ship as of November 30, 1910
+ the addition of 24 surviving puppies born on the ship
= 117 dogs total on the Fram as of November 30, 1910
This would be the highest number of dogs alive at one time on the Norwegian Antarctic Expedition.
The puppy nursery, near the bridge, on board the Fram, tended to by Thorvald Nilsen, pictured here cradling a puppy on his shoulder. The puppies, who can be seen climbing along the deck, slept in the crates that were requisitioned as puppy houses. One of the mothers is seen here peering into one of the houses. The precariousness of the puppies’ position, at the edge of the ship, next to the water, is remarkable. (Photographer: unidentified/Owner: National Library of Norway)
One of the puppies is carefully fed, by Thorvald Nilsen, with condensed milk. Closely watching the feeding process is the mother, who most likely is Sara. (Photographer: unidentified/Owner: National Library of Norway)
The dogs curl up under the pilot wheel as the ship takes on the high waves in the south seas. The sled dogs endured the rocking and rolling of the Fram and did their best to avoid the prevalent rain and water spray. (Photographer: unidentified/Owner: National Library of Norway)
A letter from Roald Amundsen to his brother Leon Amundsen on November 12, 1910, in which he reports on the canine population on board. By this date, the original 97 dogs had now increased to 117, following the death of 4 adults and the addition of 24 puppies who were allowed to live. (National Library of Norway)
Robert Falcon Scott’s poignant November 14, 1910, letter to Fridtjof Nansen, expressing his mystification at Roald Amundsen’s motives and actions, musing about the question of using more dogs, and assuring Nansen that all of his animals – including the ponies which he planned to use as his primary mode of transportation in Antarctica – were all “splendid.” Shown here are the first and last pages of Scott’s original four-page letter. (National Library of Norway)
Martin Rønne and Hjalmar Fredrik Gjertsen dance with Sauen (“The Sheep”) and Ester, while ice pilot Andreas Beck plays the violin. According to Gjertsen’s and Olav Bjaaland’s diaries, this impromptu dance took place on the stern deck, on a fresh, sunny day, on November 20, 1910, and was photographed by Roald Amundsen. (Photographer: unidentified – most likely Roald Amundsen/Owner: National Library of Norway)
Notes on Original Material and Unpublished Sources
Roald Amundsen’s and Hjalmar Johansen’s expedition diaries, quoted in this chapter, are in the Manuscripts Collection at the National Library of Norway (NB) in Oslo. (The excerpts quoted are translated from the original Norwegian.)
- 1.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 30 October 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 2.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 31 October 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 3.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 1 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 4.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 3 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 5.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 4 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 6.
R. Amundsen to L. Amundsen, 12 November 1910, NB Brevs. 812:1
- 7.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 5 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 8.
F.H. Johansen Antarctic expedition diary, 26 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 2775:C:2
- 9.
R. Amundsen Antarctic Expedition Diary, November 9, 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 10.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 6 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549.
- 11.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 11 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549.
- 12.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 20 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 13.
F.H. Johansen Antarctic expedition diary, 11 December 1910, NB Ms.4° 2775:C:2
- 14.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 11 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 15.
R. Amundsen to L. Amundsen, November 12, 1910, NB Brevs. 812:1
- 16.
R.F. Scott to F. Nansen, November 14, 1910, NB Brevs. 48
- 17.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 24 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 18.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 8 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 19.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 18 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549
- 20.
R. Amundsen to F. Nansen, 25 November 1910, NB Ms.fol. 1924:5:3.
- 21.
R. Amundsen Antarctic expedition diary, 29 November 1910, NB Ms.4° 1549