The World of Ice | Page 8

boldly to him and proposed that a vessel should be fitted out immediately, and sent off to 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 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