Fortunately for our animals, the weather in the westerly belt was subject to very frequent changes.  No doubt they had many a sleepless night, with rain, sleet, and hail; but on the other hand they never had to wait very long for a cheerful glimpse of the sun.  The wind is for the most part of cyclonic character, shifting suddenly from one quarter to another, and these shifts always involve a change of weather.  When the barometer begins to fall, it is a sure warning of an approaching north-westerly wind, which is always accompanied by precipitation, and increases in force until the fall of the barometer ceases.  When this occurs, there follows either a short pause, or else the wind suddenly shifts to the south-west, and blows from that quarter with increasing violence, while the barometer rises rapidly.  The change of wind is almost always followed by a clearing of the weather.

A circumstance which contributes an element of risk to navigation in the latitudes where we found ourselves is the possibility of colliding with an iceberg in darkness or thick weather; for it sometimes happens that these sinister monsters in the course of their wanderings find their way well up into the “forties.”  The probability of a collision is of course in itself not very great, and it can be reduced to a minimum by taking proper precautions.  At night an attentive and practised look-out man will always be able to see the blink of the ice at a fairly long distance.  From the time when we had to reckon with any likelihood of meeting icebergs, the temperature of the water was also taken every two hours during the night.

As Kerguelen Island lay almost directly in the course we intended to follow, it was decided for several reasons that we should call there, and pay a visit to the Norwegian whaling-station.  Latterly many of the dogs had begun to grow thin, and it seemed probable that this was owing to their not having enough fatty substances in their food; on Kerguelen Island there would presumably be an opportunity of getting all the fat we wanted.  As to water, we had, it was true, just enough to last us with economy, but it would do no harm to fill up the tanks.  I was also hoping that there would be a chance of engaging three or four extra hands, for the Fram would be rather short-handed with only ten men to sail her out of the ice and round the Horn to Buenos Aires after the rest of us had been landed on the Barrier.  Another reason for the contemplated visit was that it would be an agreeable diversion.  We now only had to get there as quickly as possible, and the west wind helped us splendidly; one stiff breeze succeeded another, without our having any excessive weather.  Our daily distance at this time amounted as a rule to about one hundred and fifty miles; in one twenty-four hours we made one hundred and seventy-four miles.  This was our best day’s work of the whole voyage, and it is no bad performance for a vessel like the Fram, with her limited sail area and her heavily-laden hull.