o search for his
father's brig. Mr Singleton smiled at the request, and pointed out the
utter impossibility of his agreeing to it; but he revived Fred's sinking
hopes by saying that, he was about to send out a whaler to the northern
seas at any rate, and that he would give orders to the captain to devote
a _portion_ of his time to the search, and, moreover, agreed to let Fred
go as a passenger in company with his own son Tom.

Now Tom Singleton had been Fred's bosom friend and companion during his
first year at school, but during the last two years he had been sent to
the Edinburgh University, to prosecute his medical studies, and the two
friends had only met at rare intervals. It was with unbounded delight,
therefore, that he found his old companion, now a youth of twenty, was
to go out as surgeon of the ship, and he could scarce contain himself,
as he ran down to Buzzby's cottage to tell him the good news, and ask
him to join.

Of course Buzzby was ready to go, and, what was of far greater
importance in the matter, his wife threw no obstacle in the way. On the
contrary, she undid the lashings of the helm with her own hand, and told
her wondering partner, with a good-humoured (but firm) smile, to steer
where he chose, and she would content herself with the society of the
two young Buzzbys (both miniature facsimiles of their father), till he
came back.

Once again a whale-ship prepared to sail from the port of Grayton, and
once again Mrs Bright and Isobel stood on the pier to see her depart.
Isobel was about thirteen now, and as pretty a girl, according to
Buzzby, as you could meet with in any part of Britain. Her eyes were
blue, and her hair nut-brown, and her charms of face and figure were
enhanced immeasurably by an air of modesty and earnestness that went
straight home to your heart, and caused you to adore her at once.
Buzzby doated on her as if she were his only child, and felt a secret
pride in being in some undefinable way her protector. Buzzby
philosophised about her, too, after a strange fashion. "You see," he
would say to Fred, "it's not that her figure-head is cut altogether
after a parfect pattern; by no means, for I've seen pictur's and statues
that wos better; but she carries her head a little down, d'ye see,
Master Fred, and there's where it is; that's the way I gauges the worth
o' young women, jist accordin' as they carry their chins up or down. If
their brows come well for'ard, and they seems