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Updated: May 1, 2025
Also another note: "The Norwegian Home, Poleheim, is situated in 89 degrees 58 minutes S. Lat. S.E. by E. compass 8 miles. The Norwegian Explorers' names recorded at Poleheim were: Roald Amundsen, Olaf Bjaaland, Helmer Hanssen, Oskar Wisting, Sverre Hassel.
I could see nothing; only heard that the two Primuses were turned down. I think it took about five minutes for the steam to disappear, and what did I see then? Hassel, bright as a new shilling, dressed in his best for St. Hans' Eve. I availed myself of the opportunity to examine the first, and probably the only, vapour-bath on the Antarctic Barrier.
And there comes Stubberud, the man the Aftenpost said was so clever at double-entry book-keeping. As I see him now, he does not give me the impression of being a book-keeper but one can't tell. And here come Hassel, Johansen, and Prestrud; now they are all up, and will soon begin the day's work. "Stubberud!" It is Lindström putting his head in at the door.
The saw stopped instantly, was raised, and put down by the wall. I waited for the next step in suppressed excitement; something hitherto undreamt of must be going to happen. Hassel looked round one can never be careful enough approached my host, and whispered, with every sign of caution "I did him out of twenty-five kilos last week." I breathed again; I had expected something much worse than that.
I could see that Hassel was capable of other things besides sawing birchwood. Outside lay his team, guarding all his movements Mikkel, Ræven, Masmas, and Else. They all looked well. Now we were going to see the others. We went over to the entrance of the hut and raised the trap-door; a dazzling light met my eyes.
But I think Sherlock Holmes would have found it a hard-nut to crack if he had been set down blindfold on the Antarctic Barrier, as I was, so to speak, and asked to explain the situation. It was one of those folding American vapour-baths that Hassel sat in. The bathroom, which had looked so spacious and elegant in the fog, reduced itself to a little snow-hut of insignificant appearance.
After a while pipes came out, and the scent of "plug" soon struggled with the fresh air for supremacy. Over the tobacco the work for the day was discussed. "Well, I'll have enough to do supplying that woodswallower over the holiday," said Hassel. I gave a chuckle. If Hassel had known of the way the paraffin was used that morning, he would have added something about the "oil-drinker," I expect.
If, then, the snowfall was so inconsiderable at this time of the year and along the edge of the Barrier, what might it not be in autumn and winter in the interior? As I have said, something was better than nothing, and Bjaaland, Hassel, and Stubberud, who were to return to Lindström's flesh-pots on the following day, were given the task of setting up these marks.
With a smile of satisfaction Hassel resumed his interrupted work, and I believe nothing in the world would have stopped him again. The last I saw as we returned through the doorway was Hassel surrounded by a halo of sawdust. We were back on the Barrier surface; a touch of the finger, and the trap-door swung over and fell noiselessly into its place.
In a dark room it certainly would not have given much light, but in these white surroundings it shone like the sun. A Primus lamp was burning on the floor. The thermometer, which hung a little way from the Primus, showed -5° F., so Hassel could hardly complain of the heat, but he had to saw, so it did not matter. We approached Hassel.
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