in the first instance to the touching affection of the second in command for the little ones. From the very first moment he was their avowed protector. Gradually, as the numbers increased, there was a difficulty in finding room on the already well-occupied deck. "I'll take them in my bunk," said the second in command. It did not come to that, but if it had been necessary he would certainly have done so. The example was catching. Later on, when the little chaps were weaned, and had begun to take other nourishment, one might see regularly, after every meal, one after another of the crew coming on deck with some carefully scraped-up bits of food on his plate; the little hungry mouths were to have what was left over.
Something more than patience and punctual performance of duty is displayed in such things as those of which I have been speaking; it is love of, and a living interest in, one's work. From what I saw and heard every day, I was certain that these necessary incentives were present; although, as far as most of the men were concerned, our object was still the protracted one of drifting for years in the Arctic ice. The extension of the plan -- the far more imminent battle with the ice-floes of the South -- was still undreamt of by the majority of the ship's company. I considered it necessary to keep it to myself for a little while yet -- until our departure from the port we were now making for: Funchal, Madeira. It may possibly appear to many people that I was running a pretty big risk in thus putting off till the last moment the duty of informing my comrades of the very considerable detour we were to make. Suppose some, or perhaps all, of them had objected! It must be admitted that it was a big risk, but there were so many risks that had to be taken at that time.
However, as I got to know each man during these first few weeks of our long voyage, I soon arrived at the conviction that there was nobody on board the Fram who would try to put difficulties in the way. On the contrary, I had more and more reason to hope that they would all receive the news with joy when they heard it; for then their whole prospect would be so different. Everything had gone with surprising ease up to this time; in future it would go even better.
It was not without a certain longing that I looked forward to our arrival at Madeira: it would be grand to be able to speak out! No doubt the others who knew of the plan were equally eager. Secrets are neither amusing nor easy to carry about -- least of all on board a ship, where one has to live at such close quarters as we had. We were chatting together every day, of course, and the uninitiated could not be deterred from leading the conversation round to the ugly difficulties that would embitter our lives and hinder our
progress when rounding the Horn. It was likely enough that we should manage to bring the dogs safely through the tropics once, but whether we should succeed in doing so twice was more doubtful; and so on to infinity. It is easier to imagine than to describe how awkward all this was, and how cunningly one had to choose one's words to avoid saying too much. Among inexperienced men there would have been no great difficulty, but it must be remembered that on the Fram pretty nearly every second man had spent years of his life in Polar voyages: a single slight hint to them would have been enough to expose the whole plan. That neither those on board nor anyone else discovered it prematurely can only be explained by its being so obvious.
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Our ship was a good deal too dependent on wind and weather to enable us to make any accurate estimate of the time our voyage would occupy, especially as regards those latitudes in which the winds are variable. The estimate for the whole voyage was based on an average speed of four knots, and at this very modest rate, as it may seem, we ought to arrive at the lce Barrier about the middle
of January, 1911. As will be seen later, this was realized with remarkable exactness. For reaching Madeira we had allowed a month as a reasonable time. We did a good deal better than this, as we were able to leave Funchal a month to the day after our departure from Christiansand. We were always ready to forgive the estimate when it was at fault in this way.
The delay to which we had been subjected in the English Channel was fortunately made up along the coast of Spain and to the south of it. The north wind held until we were in the north-east trade, and then we were all right. On September 5 our observations at
noon told us that we might expect to see the lights that evening, and at 10 p.m. the light of San Lorenzo on the little island of Fora, near Madeira, was reported from the rigging.
CHAPTER IV: From Madeira to the Barrier
On the following morning we anchored in Funchal Roads. My brother was to arrive at Funchal, by arrangement, early enough to be sure of preceding us there. It was, however, a good while before we saw anything of him, and we were already flattering ourselves that we had arrived first when he was suddenly observed in a boat coming under our stern. We were able to tell him that all was well on board, and he brought us a big packet of letters and newspapers that gave us news of home. A little officious gentleman, who said he was a doctor, and as such had come in an official capacity to inquire as to the state of our health, was in an amazing hurry to leave the ship again when, at the top of the gangway, he found himself confronted with a score of dogs' jaws, which at the moment were opened wide on account of the heat. The learned man's interest in our health had suddenly vanished; his thoughts flew to the safety of his own life and limbs.
As Funchal was the last place where we could communicate with the outside world, arrangements were made for completing our supplies in every possible way, and in particular we had to take on board all the fresh water we could. The consumption of this commodity would be very large, and the possibility of running short had to be avoided at any price. For the time being we could do no more than fill all our tanks and every imaginable receptacle with the precious fluid, and this was done. We took about 1,000 gallons
in the long-boat that was carried just above the main hatch. This was rather a risky experiment, which might have had awkward consequences in the event of the vessel rolling; but we consoled ourselves with the hope of fine weather and a smooth sea during the next few weeks. During the stay at Funchal the dogs had two good meals of fresh meat as a very welcome variety in their diet; a fair-sized carcass of a horse disappeared with impressive rapidity at each of these banquets. For our own use we naturally took
a plentiful supply of vegetables and fruits, which were here to be had in abundance; it was the last opportunity we should have of regaling ourselves with such luxuries.
Our stay at Funchal was somewhat longer than was intended at first, as the engineers found it necessary to take up the propeller and examine the brasses. This work would occupy two days, and while the three mechanics were toiling in the heat, the rest of the ship's company took the opportunity of becoming acquainted with the town and its surroundings; the crew had a day's leave, half at a time. An excursion was arranged to one of the numerous hotels that are situated on the heights about the town. The ascent is easily made by means of a funicular railway, and in the course of the half-hour it takes to reach the top one is able to get an idea of the luxuriant fertility of the island. At the hotels one finds a good cuisine, and, of course, still better wine. It is scarcely necessary to add that we