Two men are already dead. Another two have been driven insane by their predicament. Most of the crew are suffering from cramps and lethargy, with the blackened gums, loose teeth and foul breath of scurvy. Few have the energy or mental strength to even leave their bunks. De Gerlache himself has locked his cabin door, surrendering to black thoughts.
First mate Amundsen can see it now. An accident? No. It was always the intention of the commander to trap the ship in the ice, to drift amid the uncharted southern reaches of the Bellingshausen Sea just so he could boast of being the first to overwinter in Antarctica. Like it or not, they are all prisoners of an ice field that extends into hundreds of kilometres of nothingness. In all likelihood they will not survive the ordeal. De Gerlache is an inexperienced fool. Amundsen knows the Belgica is ill-equipped and under-provisioned. Nobody has winter clothes, there is scarcely enough paraffin to burn two lamps and yet several months of darkness are already upon them. Water seeps down the inside of the hull, and a damp cold invades the ship and deprives the crew of even the most modest comforts – a warm bed, dry clothes. Fear gnaws away at the men in the endless night. Might they drift forever with no prospect of rescue? No one has any energy left for fighting. Depression has taken over from aggression aboard the Belgica.
‘You’re my kind of man, Amundsen,’ says the ship’s surgeon Dr Cook, one of the few men aboard with polar experience. Cook is courageous, calm and wise in the ways of survival. He all but assumes control of the ship. Amundsen and Cook busy themselves hunting to supplement rations, making brief forays beyond the ship in the dim light, working tirelessly to improve their inadequate equipment and clothing. Against the commander’s orders, Cook force-feeds the seal and penguin meat to the scurvy-stricken crew. The peculiar flavour offends but ultimately saves lives. De Gerlache finally relents, but only when death is the alternative.
Twenty-six years old and Amundsen’s hair has turned grey. Lucky it didn’t fall out. He has filled five notebooks with his detailed analysis of the expedition’s failings. It’s not for sharing or for seeking damages. It’s for nobody’s benefit but his own. Experience was what he was after; an education is what he received.