lies for the island."

The yacht's course was altered, the log was hove, and, observing the
moment of starting, they awaited the result. Bob thought it was a
smallish island with little bushes on it. The time they took in drawing
near to it first led him to doubt the correctness of his own opinion.
But when the bushes began to turn into trees, and the cliffs to tower
into the sky above his head, and throw a dark shadow over the vessel, he
was obliged to give in. The distance which he had imagined was not more
than one mile turned out to be _five_.

On another occasion a similar case of the deceptive appearance of
distance occurred. They were sailing up a certain fiord, which most of
the people on board supposed was only about a mile broad. One of the
sailors, Bill by name, insisted that it could not be more than
three-quarters of a mile; and thereupon an animated discussion,
amounting almost to a dispute, began. But Bill was not to be put down.
"He was an old salt. _He_ wasn't to be taken in by these molehills, not
he!" He had sailed round the world, according to his own account had
been shipwrecked half a dozen times, and drowned once or twice, besides
being murdered occasionally; so he thought himself a weighty authority,
and entitled to great respect!

Well, to settle this point the yacht was sailed straight across the
fiord, and the breadth, measured by the log, was found, as in the former
case, to be about five miles.

The calms, although frequent in this latitude, did not last long. Light
breezes sprang up now and then, and for several days carried our
travellers to the north. But not fast enough, for the sun still kept
ahead of them. During this period, they saw great variety of wonderful
scenery, had several small adventures, and enjoyed themselves extremely.

Fred Temple usually began each calm day by jumping out of bed, rushing
upon deck and going over the side, head-foremost into the water. He was
generally followed by Sam Sorrel; but Sam was inclined to be lazy, and
did not always follow his friend's lead. Grant never followed it. He
was inveterately lazy in the morning, although at all other times he was
as active as a mountain goat.

Our Highlander was particularly successful about this time with his gun.
The number of birds that he shot and stuffed was enormous. Whenever a
calm prevailed, he took the light little Norse boat that had been
purchased at Bergen, and went off to the neares