On May 24, 1880, I went on board the barque Einar Tambarskjelver bound from Snar Island near Christiania to Port Adelaide with a cargo of planed lumber. I carried with me a hunter's outfit, guns, ammunition, and other articles necessary for the chase, furnished me by the University of Norway, as well as some northern bird skins in order to inaugurate exchange with Australian museums. Sailing in the north-east trade-winds, a sunset in the tropics, or a mild starlit night on the ocean with a blazing phosphorescent sea, do not fail to make a strong impression. Then passing the pacific belt of the ocean, where a dead calm is suddenly interrupted by the most violent storm, you soon reach, by the aid of the south-east trades, the region of the westerly winds. The Southern Cross and the cloud of Magellan, the gigantic sperm-whale, whose huge head now and then appeared above the surface of the water, and the albatross, whose'glorious flight we never ceased to admire, heralded our arrival within the limits of the Southern Ocean. Cape-doves, albatrosses, and gulls accompanied us for weeks together. The passage had, however, at times its dark sides. On August 17, at six o'clock in the morning, we were overtaken by a most violent gale. All the sails, except the close-reefed topsails and foresail, were taken in. We shipped many seas. The stairs to the quarter-deck were crushed; one wave broke through two doors in the companion-way to the steerage, another set all the water-casks afloat in the maddest confusion, a third filled the galley, so that the cook found himself waist-deep in water.