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