For this reason the Fram carried a whole library of Antarctic literature, containing everything that has been written by the long succession of explorers in these regions, from James Cook and James Clark Ross to Captain Scott and Sir Ernest Shackleton.  And, indeed, good use was made of this library.  The works of the two last-named explorers were in chief request; they were read from cover to cover by all who could do so, and, well written and excellently illustrated as these narratives are, they were highly instructive.  But if ample time was thus devoted to the theoretical study of our problem, the practical preparations were not neglected.  As soon as we were in the trade-winds, where the virtually constant direction and force of the wind permitted a reduction of the watch on deck, the various specialists went to work to put our extensive wintering outfit in the best possible order.  It is true that every precaution had been taken beforehand to have every part of the equipment as good and as well adapted to its purpose as possible, but the whole of it, nevertheless, required a thorough overhauling.  With so complicated an outfit as ours was, one is never really at the end of one’s work; it will always be found that some improvement or other can be made.  It will appear later that we had our hands more than full of the preparations for the sledge journey, not only during the long sea voyage, but also during the still longer Antarctic winter.

Our sailmaker, Ronne, was transformed into a —­ well, let us call it tailor.  Ronne’s pride was a sewing-machine, which he had obtained from the yard at Horten after considerable use of his persuasive tongue.  His greatest sorrow on the voyage was that, on arriving at the Barrier, he would be obliged to hand over his treasure to the shore party.  He could not understand what we wanted with a sewing-machine at Framheim.  The first thing he did when the Fram reached Buenos Aires was to explain to the local representative of the Singer Sewing Machine Company how absolutely necessary it was to have his loss made good.  His gift of persuasion helped him again, and he got a new machine.

For that matter, it was not surprising that Ronne was fond of his machine.  He could use it for all sorts of things —­ sailmaker’s, shoemaker’s, saddler’s, and tailor’s work was all turned out with equal celerity.  He established his workshop in the chart-house, and there the machine hummed incessantly through the tropics, the west wind belt, and the ice-floes too; for, quick as our sailmaker was with his fingers, the orders poured in even more quickly.  Ronne was one of those men whose ambition it is to get as much work as possible done in the shortest possible time, and with increasing astonishment he saw that here he would never be finished; he might go at it as hard as he liked —­ there was always something more.  To reckon up all that he delivered from his workshop during these months would take us too long; it is enough to say that all the work was remarkably well done, and executed with admirable rapidity.  Perhaps one of the things he personally prided himself most on having made was the little three-man tent which was afterwards left at the South Pole.  It was a little masterpiece of a tent, made of thin silk, which, when folded together, would easily have gone into a fair-sized pocket, and weighed hardly a kilogram.