f
Galloway, on which the light could be seen in the northeast. During
the night they left the Mull of Cantire to the north, and on the east
Fair Head, on the Irish coast. Towards three o'clock in the morning,
the brig, passing Rathlin Island on its starboard quarter, came out
from the North Channel into the ocean.

That was Sunday, April 8. The English, and especially sailors, are
very observant of that day; hence the reading of the Bible, of which
the doctor gladly took charge, occupied a good part of the morning.

[Illustration]

The wind rose to a gale, and threatened to drive the ship back upon
the Irish coast. The waves ran very high; the vessel rolled a great
deal. If the doctor was not sea-sick, it was because he was determined
not to be, for nothing would have been easier. At midday Malin Head
disappeared from their view in the south; it was the last sight these
bold sailors were to have of Europe, and more than one gazed at it for
a long time who was doubtless fated never to set eyes on it again.

[Illustration]

By observation the latitude then was 55 degrees 57 minutes, and the
longitude, according to the chronometer, 7 degrees 40 minutes.[1]

[Footnote 1: Meridian of Greenwich.]

The gale abated towards nine o'clock of the evening; the _Forward_, a
good sailer, kept on its route to the northwest. That day gave them
all a good opportunity to judge of her sea-going qualities; as good
judges had already said at Liverpool, she was well adapted for
carrying sail.

During the following days, the _Forward_ made very good progress; the
wind veered to the south, and the sea ran high. The brig set every
sail. A few petrels and puffins flew about the poop-deck; the doctor
succeeded in shooting one of the latter, which fortunately fell on
board.

[Illustration]

Simpson, the harpooner, seized it and carried it to the doctor.

"It's an ugly bird, Dr. Clawbonny," he said.

"But then it will make a good meal, my friend."

"What, are you going to eat it?"

"And you shall have a taste of it," said the doctor, laughing.

"Never!" answered Simpson; "it's strong and oily, like all sea-birds."

[Illustration]

"True," said the doctor; "but I have a way of dressing such game, and
if you recognize it to be a sea-bird, I'll promise never to kill
another in all my life."

"So you are a cook, too, Dr. Clawbonny?" asked Johnson.

"A learned man ought to know a little of everything."

"Then take care, Simpson