to be lookin' at the
ground they walk on, I knows their brains is firm stuff, and in good
workin' order; but when I sees them carryin' their noses high out o' the
water, as if they wos afeard o' catchin' sight o' their own feet, and
their chins elewated so that a little boy standin' in front o' them
couldn't see their faces nohow, I make pretty sure that t'other end is
filled with a sort o' _mush_ that's fit only to think o' dress and
dancing."

On the present occasion Isobel's eyes were red and swollen, and by no
means improved by weeping. Mrs Bright, too, although three years had
done little to alter her character, seemed to be less demonstrative, and
much more sincere than usual, in her grief at parting from Fred.

In a few minutes all was ready. Young Singleton and Buzzby having
hastily but earnestly bade Mrs Bright and her daughter farewell, leaped
on board. Fred lingered for a moment.

"Once more, dear Aunt," said he, "farewell! With God's blessing we
shall come back soon. Write to me, darling Isobel, won't you? to
Uppernavik, on the coast of Greenland. If none of our ships are bound
in that direction, write by way of Denmark. Old Mr Singleton will tell
you how to address your letter, and see that it be a long one."

"Now, then, youngster, jump aboard," shouted the captain; "look sharp!"

"Ay, ay," returned Fred, and in another moment he was on the
quarter-deck, by the side of his friend Tom.

The ship, loosed from her moorings, spread her canvas, and plunged
forward on her adventurous voyage.

But this time she does not grow smaller as she advances before the
freshening breeze, for you and I, reader, have embarked in her, and the
land now fades in the distance, until it sinks from view on the distant
horizon, while nothing meets our gaze, but the vault of the bright blue
sky above, and the plain of the dark blue sea below.

CHAPTER THREE.

THE VOYAGE--THE DOLPHIN AND HER CREW--ICE AHEAD--POLAR SCENES--MASTHEAD
OBSERVATIONS--THE FIRST WHALE--GREAT EXCITEMENT.

And now we have fairly got into blue water--the sailor's delight, the
landsman's dread--

"The sea! the sea! the open sea;
The blue, the fresh, the ever free."

"It's my opinion," remarked Buzzby to Singleton one day, as they stood
at the weather gangway, watching the foam that spread from the vessel's
bow as she breasted the waves of the Atlantic gallantly,--"It's my
opinion that our skipper is made o' the right stuff. He's e