no sooner had we reached their domain than they were upon us with full force; it was no gentle treatment that we received, but the effect was excellent —­ we raced to the eastward.  An intended call at Gough Island had to be abandoned; the sea was running too high for us to venture to approach the narrow little harbour.  The month of October had put us a good deal behindhand, but now we were making up the distance we had lost.  We had reckoned on being south of the Cape of Good Hope within two months after leaving Madeira, and this turned out correct.  The day we passed the meridian of the Cape we had the first regular gale; the seas ran threateningly high, but now for the first time our splendid little ship showed what she was worth.  A single one of these gigantic waves would have cleared our decks in an instant if it had come on board, but the Fram did not permit any such impertinence.  When they came up behind the vessel, and we might expect at any moment to see them break over the low after-deck, she just raised herself with an elegant movement, and the wave had to be content with slipping underneath.  An albatross could not have managed the situation better.  It is said that the Fram was built for the ice, and that cannot, of course, be denied; but at the same time it is certain that when Colin Archer created his famous masterpiece of an ice boat, she was just as much a masterpiece of a sea boat —­ a vessel it would be difficult to match for seaworthiness.  To be able to avoid the seas as the Fram did, she had to roll, and this we had every opportunity of finding out.  The whole long passage through the westerly belt was one continual rolling; but in course of time one got used even to that discomfort.  It was awkward enough, but less disagreeable than shipping water.  Perhaps it was worse for those who had to work in the galley:  it is no laughing matter to be cook, when for weeks together you cannot put down so much as a coffee-cup without its immediately turning a somersault.  It requires both patience and strong will to carry it through, but the two —­ Lindstrom and Olsen —­ who looked after our food under these difficult conditions, had the gift of taking it all from the humorous point of view, and that was well.

As regards the dogs, it mattered little to them whether a gale was blowing, so long as the rain kept off.  They hate rain; wet in any form is the worst one can offer an Arctic dog.  If the deck was wet, they would not lie down, but would remain standing motionless for hours, trying to take a nap in that uncomfortable position.  Of course, they did not get much sleep in that way, but to make up for it they could sleep all day and all night when the weather was fine.  South of the Cape we lost two dogs; they went overboard one dark night when the ship was rolling tremendously.  We had a coal-bunker on the port side of the after-deck, reaching up to the height of the bulwarks; probably these fellows had been practising boarding drill, and lost their balance.  We took precautions that the same thing should not happen again.