At three in the afternoon a simultaneous “Halt!” rang out from the drivers.  They had carefully examined their sledge-meters, and they all showed the full distance —­ our Pole by reckoning.  The goal was reached, the journey ended.  I cannot say —­ though I know it would sound much more effective —­ that the object of my life was attained.  That would be romancing rather too bare-facedly.  I had better be honest and admit straight out that I have never known any man to be placed in such a diametrically opposite position to the goal of his desires as I was at that moment.  The regions around the North Pole —­ well, yes, the North Pole itself —­ had attracted me from childhood, and here I was at the South Pole.  Can anything more topsy-turvy be imagined?

We reckoned now that we were at the Pole.  Of course, every one of us knew that we were not standing on the absolute spot; it would be an impossibility with the time and the instruments at our disposal to ascertain that exact spot.  But we were so near it that the few miles which possibly separated us from it could not be of the slightest importance.  It was our intention to make a circle round this camp, with a radius of twelve and a half miles (20 kilometres), and to be satisfied with that.  After we had halted we collected and congratulated each other.  We had good grounds for mutual respect in what had been achieved, and I think that was just the feeling that was expressed in the firm and powerful grasps of the fist that were exchanged.  After this we proceeded to the greatest and most solemn act of the whole journey —­ the planting of our flag.  Pride and affection shone in the five pairs of eyes that gazed upon the flag, as it unfurled itself with a sharp crack, and waved over the Pole.  I had determined that the act of planting it —­ the historic event —­ should be equally divided among us all.  It was not for one man to do this; it was for all who had staked their lives in the struggle, and held together through thick and thin.  This was the only way in which I could show my gratitude to my comrades in this desolate spot.  I could see that they understood and accepted it in the spirit in which it was offered.  Five weather-beaten, frost-bitten fists they were that grasped the pole, raised the waving flag in the air, and planted it as the first at the geographical South Pole.  “Thus we plant thee, beloved flag, at the South Pole, and give to the plain on which it lies the name of King Haakon VII.’s Plateau.”  That moment will certainly be remembered by all of us who stood there.

One gets out of the way of protracted ceremonies in those regions —­ the shorter they are the better.  Everyday life began again at once.  When we had got the tent up, Hanssen set about slaughtering Helge, and it was hard for him to have to part from his best friend.  Helge had been an uncommonly useful and good-natured dog; without making any fuss he had pulled from morning to night, and had been