had never spent a more enjoyable forenoon. The rideback was especially delightful. Before they left their guides to returnon board, little Norna, the giant's lovely daughter, produced from themysterious depths of her peat-creel quite a wonderful assortment ofgauzy mits and gauntlets, and tiny little shawls, and queerold-fashioned head-dresses, all knitted by her own fair fingers. Ofcourse they bought some of each as souvenirs of their visit to thesea-girdled mainland of Shetland, and they paid for them so liberallytoo, that the tears stood in the girl's blue eyes as they bade hergood-bye. Norna had never been so rich in her life before.
Captain McBain was in his cabin poring over a chart when our heroesreturned.
"Bravo! boys," he said, heartily; "you're up to time, and now, as thebreeze is from the south with a point or two of east in it, I think we'dbetter make sail without delay. We'll work her quietly through thesound. We'll keep to the south of Yell, but once past Fiedland Point,good-bye to the British Islands for many a day. What more can we wish,boys, than a fair wind and a clear sea, light hearts, and a ship thatcan go?"
"What more indeed?" said Rory.
"Are we going to touch at Faroe and Iceland?" asked Ralph.
"That," said McBain, "is, of course, as you wish. I'm at and _in_ yourservice."
"Yes, yes," said Ralph; "but we don't forget you are our adviser aswell, and our sea-father."
"Well," replied McBain, "I've taken the liberty of writing to your realfather to say that we thought it better to leave Faroe out of the chart,for the voyage out, at all events. We don't know what may be before us,boys, nor how precious time may be."
That evening about sunset old Ap's boatswain's pipe was heard high abovethe whistling wind; the breeze had freshened, and sail was being takenin, and the starboard courses were hauled farther aft. They passed veryclose to some of the numerous outlying islands, the last land their eyeswould rest upon for some time. The tops of these isles were smooth andgreen, their sides were beetling cliffs and rocks of brown, with thewaves breaking into foam at the foot, and white-winged gulls wheelinghigh around them. Little sandy alcoves there were too, where dun sealslay basking in the evening sunshine, some of whom lazily lifted theirheads and gazed after the yacht, wondering probably whether she were notsome gigantic gannet or cormorant. And the _Snowbird_ sailed on andleft them to wonder. The sun sank red behind the waves, the stars shonebrightly down from a cloudless sky, and the moon's pale crescentglimmered faintly in the west, while the wind kept steady to a point,the yacht rising and falling on the waves with a motion so uniform, thateven Ralph--who, as regards walking, was the worst sailor of the three--felt sure he had his sea-legs, and could walk as well as any Jack Tarthat ever went afloat. The night was so fine that no one cared to gobelow until it was quite late.
They needed their pea-jackets on all the same.
When morning broke there was not a bit of land to be seen, not even adistant mountain top for the eye to rest upon.
"Well, boys," said McBain, when they all met together on thequarter-deck, "how did you enjoy your first night on blue water? Howdid you sleep?"
"I slept like a top," said Rory.
"I believe," said Allan, looking at Ralph, "we slept like three tops."
"Like three tops, yes," assented Ralph.
"Oh! I'm sure you didn't, Ralph," said Rory; "I wakened about sevenbells in the morning watch, just for a moment, you know, and you weresnoring like a grampus. And tops don't snore, do they?"
"And how do you know a grampus does?" asked McBain, smiling.
"Troth," said Rory, "it's a figure of speech entirely."
"But isn't Rory getting nautical?" said Ralph; "didn't you observe hesaid `seven bells' instead of half-past three, or three-thirty?"
"Three-thirty indeed!" cried Rory, in affected disdain. "Ha! ha! ha! Ican't help laughing at all at all; 3:30! just fancy a fellow talkinglike an old Bradshaw, while standing on the white deck of a fine yachtlike this, with a jolly breeze blowing and all sail set alow and aloft.
"Poor little Ralph!" continued Rory, patting his friend on the shoulder,and looking quizzingly up into his face, "and didn't he get any lettersthis morning! Do run down below, Allan, my boy, and see if the postmanhas brought the morning paper."
"Hurrah?" shouted Allan, so loudly and so suddenly that every one staredat him in astonishment.
"Hurrah!" he shouted again, this time flinging his cap in true Highlandfashion half-way up to the maintop.
"Gentlemen," he continued, in mock heroic tones, "the last mail is aboutto leave--the ship, bound for the distant Castle of Arrandoon."
And away he rushed below, leaving Ralph and Rory looking so comicallypuzzled that McBain burst out laughing.
"Is it leave of his seven senses," said Rory, seriously, "that poorAllan is after taking? And can you really laugh at such an accident,Captain McBain? it's myself that is astonished _at_ you?"
"Ah! but lad," said McBain, "I'm in the secret."
Allan was on deck again in a minute.
He was waving a basket aloft.
"Helen's pigeon, boys! Helen's pigeon!" he was crying, with the tearsactually in his eyes. "I'd forgotten Peter had it till now."
Ten minutes afterwards the tiny missive, beginning "At sea" and ending"All's well," was written, and attached to the strong bird's leg. Itwas examined carefully, and carefully and cautiously fed, then a messagewas whispered to it by Rory--a message such as a poet might send; a kisswas pressed upon its bonnie back, and then it was thrown up, and almostimmediately it began to soar.
"The bravest bird that ever cleaved the air," said Allan, withenthusiasm. "I've flown it four hundred miles and over."
In silence they watched it in its circling flight, and to their joy theysaw it, ere lost to view, heading away for the distant mainland ofScotland. Then they resumed walking and talking on deck.
That was about the only incident of their first day at sea. Towardsevening a little stranger came on board, and glad he seemed to be toreach the deck of the _Snowbird_, for he must have been very tired withhis long flight.
Only a yellowhammer--the most persecuted bird in all the BritishIslands--that was what the little stranger was. McBain had caught himand brought him below with him to the tea-table, much to the wondermentof his messmates.
"It is a common thing," said McBain, "for land birds to follow ships, orrather to be blown out to sea, and take refuge on a vessel." A cage wasconstructed for the bird, and it was hung up in the snuggery, orafter-saloon.
"That'll be the sweet little cherub," said Rory, "that will sit up aloftand look after the life of poor Jack."
Westwards and northwards went the _Snowbird_, the breeze never failingnor varying for three whole days. By this time the seagulls that hadfollowed the ship since they left the isles, picking up the crumbs thatwere cast overboard from the galley, had all gone back home. Theyprobably had wives and little fledgling families to look after, and socould not go any farther, good though the living was.
"When I see the last gull flying far away astern," said McBain, "then Ithink myself fairly at sea. But isn't it glorious weather we arehaving, boys? I like to begin a voyage like this, and not with a gale."
"Why?" said Rory, "we're all sea fast now, we wouldn't mind it much."
"Why?" repeated McBain, "everything shakes itself into shape thus, ay,and every man of the crew gets shaken into shape, and when it does comeon to blow--and we cannot always expect fine weather--there won't behalf the rolling nor half the confusion there would otherwise be."
"Give me your glass," cried Rory, somewhat excitedly; "I see something."
"What is it?" said Allan, looking in the same direction; "the greatsea-serpent?"
"Indeed, no," replied Rory, "it's a whale, and he is going in the samedirection too."
"It's my whale, you know," continued Rory, when everybody had had a goodpeep at him, "because I saw him first."
"Very well," said McBain, "we are not going to dispute theproprietorship. We wis
h you luck with your whale; he won't want to comeon board, I dare say, and he won't cost much to keep out there, at anyrate."
All that day Rory's whale kept up with the ship; they could see his darkhead and back, as he rose and sank on the waves; he was seldomthree-quarters of a mile off, and very often much nearer.
Next day at breakfast, "How is your whale, Rory?" said Ralph.
"Oh!" said Rory, "he