pass easily and keeping each of us in full vigour was the entire absence of what I may call “dead periods.”  As soon as one problem was solved, another instantly appeared.  No sooner was one goal reached, than the next one beckoned from afar.  In this way we always had our hands full, and when that is the case, as everyone knows, time flies quickly.  One often hears it asked, How is it possible to make the time pass on such a trip?  My good friends, I would answer, if anything caused us worry, it was the thought of how we should find time enough for all we had to do.  Perhaps to many this assertion will bear the stamp of improbability; it is, nevertheless, absolutely true.  Those who have read this narrative through will, in any case, have received the impression that unemployment was an evil that was utterly unknown in our little community.

At the stage where we now found ourselves, with the main object of our enterprise achieved, there might have been reason to expect a certain degree of relaxation of interest.  This, however, was not the case.  The fact was that what we had done would have no real value until it was brought to the knowledge of mankind, and this communication had to be made with as little loss of time as possible.  If anyone was interested in being first in the market it was certainly ourselves.  The probability was, no doubt, that we were out in good time; but, in spite of all, it was only a probability.  On the other hand, it was absolutely certain that we had a voyage of 2,400 nautical miles to Hobart, which had been selected as our first port of call; and it was almost equally certain that this voyage would be both slow and troublesome.  A year before our trip through Ross Sea had turned out almost like a pleasure cruise, but that was in the middle of summer.  Now we were in February, and autumn was at hand.  As regards the belt of drift-ice, Captain Nilsen thought that would cause us no delay in future.  He had discovered a patent and infallible way of getting through!  This sounded like a rather bold assertion, but, as will be seen later, he was as good as his word.  Our worst troubles would be up in the westerlies, where we should this time be exposed to the unpleasant possibility of having to beat.  The difference in longitude between the Bay of Whales and Hobart is nearly fifty degrees.  If we could have sailed off this difference in longitude in the latitudes where we then were, and where a degree of longitude is only about thirteen nautical miles, it would all have been done in a twinkling; but the mighty mountain ranges of North Victoria Land were a decisive obstacle.  We should first have to follow a northerly course until we had rounded the Antarctic Continent’s northern outpost, Cape Adare, and the Balleny Islands to the north of it.  Not till then would the way be open for us to work to the west; but then we should be in a region where in all probability the wind would be dead against us, and as to tacking with the Fram —­ no, thank you!  Every single man on board knew enough of the conditions to be well aware of what awaited us, and it is equally certain that the thoughts of all were centred upon how we might conquer our coming difficulties in the best and quickest way.  It was the one great, common object that still bound, and would continue to bind, us all together in our joint efforts.