navigation. He is well up in logarithms, and a capitalarithmetician, I won't say mathematician, though he knows something ofmathematics as well. He can take his latitude and longitude, and canlay the place of a vessel on the chart. He knows how to use his sextantwell, and can adjust it by the sun; he can take lunars and find hislatitude by a star, and he knows everything about compasses andchronometers, and mind you that is saying a good deal. And he canobserve azimuths too, and he knows many things more that I can't tellyou about; he says himself he can work a day's work well, and I for onewouldn't mind sailing anywhere with him; but he doesn't mean going upyet for three months. McBain may be slow, but he is sure."

  "And we know," said Rory, "he can pass in seamanship."

  "I should think he could," said Allan; "in that respect I'm proud of myfoster-father; he can make sail and take it in, and work a ship in thestormiest weather; he can secure a mast, or cut one adrift, and he canrig a jury, and I needn't tell you he knows all about the lead and thelog-line. Oh yes, he is a thorough seaman, and he is well up insomething else too, which I don't think the Board of Trade ever think ofexamining people on. He is a good weather prognosticator; he knows thesigns of the clouds, and from which direction the wind is likely toblow, and by looking at the sea he can tell you the wind's force, andwhether the sea is going down or rising, and also the rate the ship isgoing at. Nor is the barometer a mere toy with him, it is a friend inneed, and positively seems to speak to him. Well, boys, what else wouldyou have? He is a sailor every inch, and dearly loves the sea; he tellsme, too, he can sleep like a sailor."

  "How should a sailor sleep?" asked Ralph.

  "Why, with one eye open, figuratively speaking," replied Allan. "Heought to be able to sleep soundly through all natural and legitimatenoises. He ought to know the position of the ship before he lies down,how her head is, what sail she carries, how the wind is, and how it islikely to be, and whether the glass is rising, falling, or steady. Withthis knowledge, commending himself to the kind God who rules and governsall things, his slumbers will be deeper and sweeter, I do verilybelieve, than any that ever a landsman knows. Rocked in the cradle ofthe deep, the creaking of the ship's rudder will not awake him, nor thelabouring of her timbers, nor the dull thud of striking seas, nor thehowling of the wind itself; but let anything go wrong, let a sail carryaway, ay, or a rope itself, or let her ship more water than she ought towith a good man at the wheel, then your sailor awakes, and very likelyhis head will appear above the companion hatch about five secondsafterwards."

  "Allan," said Rory, "you're quite eloquent. Troth, it strikes me you'rea sailor yourself, every inch of you."

  "I should like to be," said Allan, earnestly.

  "And so should we all," said Rory; "but, Ralph, dear boy," he added,"where is this yacht? Where is the _Snowbird_?"

  "She is called the _Sappho_ at present," replied Ralph, "and she issafely in dock at Dundee."

  "Dundee?" exclaimed Rory, in some amazement.

  "Yes, Dundee," repeated Ralph; "that is the place to fit out ships forthe far north. You see, she'll want an extra skin on her to withstandthe ice, and she must be fortified, strongly fortified in the bows,inside with wood and outside with iron. Father told me all about it.Father is very clever."

  "And I know he is very, very good," said Rory; "but did you tell himwhere we purposed cruising?"

  "I did, of course," replied Ralph; "that was the reason he sent theyacht to be fortified. In my very last letter I explained all our hopesand wishes to him."

  "And what does he say?"

  "Why, that an English gentleman, with youth on his side, ought to beable to go anywhere and do anything."

  "Bravely spoken," cried Allan.

  "Bravely indeed," said Ralph; "but father added that in this greatcruise of ours we must not be rash."

  "We will look upon that wish of your father's," said Allan, "as a sacredcommand, never to be broken."

  "That will we," said Rory, enthusiastically.

  "And he advised us, when thoroughly fitted and ready for sea, not to goright up icewards all at once, but to take Shetland on our way."

  "That would indeed be nice," said Rory. "I'll warrant we'll find manythings well worth seeing in both places."

  "Yes," said Ralph, "and he says we should then bear up for Baffin's Bay,and not attempt the far northern ice till we have done some exploringthere, and got acclimatised, and well versed in the knowledge and natureof the ice. `Working a ship,' he says, `among ice is very differentfrom ordinary seamanship.' But look, there is father down in thecourtyard, playing with the dogs. Let us all go down and join him."

  CHAPTER NINE.

  THE "SNOWBIRD" AT ANCHOR--PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE--FAREWELL TO THELAND OF THE ROCK AND THE WILD WOOD.

  The _Snowbird_ lay at anchor in the lake, not far from the creek wherethe cutter used to swing, and just beneath the birch-clad braes ofArrandoon. A steady breeze was blowing from the west-sou'-west, abreeze that made the landsman's heart glad. It was a balmy wind and adrying wind--a wind that chased away the winter from the glens, thatbreathed encouragement to the green and tender corn peeping shyly upfrom the brown earth; a wind that went sighing through the woods, andwhispered to the trees that spring had come; ay, and a breeze thatrejoiced the heart of the sailor; a breeze he liked to stand against,and feel, and wave his arms in, as he gazed skywards, and longed to be"up anchor and away."

  And the saucy _Snowbird_ never felt a bit more saucy than she did thatmorning. She felt impatient, and she showed it, too, in many littleways. She pulled and "titted," as Ap phrased it, at her anchor; shebent forwards and she bent sternwards; then she would roll, perhaps onceto port and twice to starboard, or _vice versa_, as the thought struckher; then she would positively stop steady for a few moments, as iflistening for an order.

  "What can the captain be thinking about?" she seemed to say. "Why don'tthey hoist the Blue Peter? Oh! shouldn't I like to spread my wings inthis beautiful wind and be off!"

  But we must leave the _Snowbird_ to herself for a little while,impatient though she be, and pay a visit to the castle, from the higherwindows of which the yacht could be seen, both masts and hull. Had wecome here about two weeks ago, we would have found a great deal ofbustle and stir going on, especially among the female portion of theestablishment, for Mrs McGregor and her gentle daughter Helen had, withthe help of their maids, undertaken the superintendence not only of theupholstering and decoration of the cabins and staterooms of the_Snowbird_, but of all the purely domestic arrangements therein. Thishad cost them months of work, and entailed besides a great manyjourneys, not only to Inverness, but to Glasgow itself. The duties theyhad undertaken had been instigated by love, and they were not withoutgood results to the performers. They had kept them from thinking. Anonly son and an only brother, Allan had never been very for away fromhome as yet, and it is needless to say that he was very dearly lovedindeed. But now that he was to leave his home and leave his country,and to journey far over the sea, to lands unknown, where dangers were tobe encountered, the nature of which could hardly be guessed at, or evendreamt of, it is no wonder that his mother and sister felt sad andsorrowful as the time drew near for parting.

  Ah! these partings, reader! Surely one of the joys of heaven will be tothink we never again will have to breathe the painful word "Farewell."

  And the _Snowbird_ was now ready for sea; all was done to her, insideand out, that could be done. Even the crew were on board, and, as soonas Ralph should return with his father from the south, they would weighanchor, and the cruise would be begun in earnest. If I were to analysethe feelings uppermost in Mrs McGregor's mind at this time, I shouldfind sorrow without doubt, but no regrets at granting her boy permissionto roam over sea and land for a year or two. Why, she reasoned, shouldnot she suffer bereavement for a little while as well as many othermothers, when it would be for Allan's advantage and good? So hersadness never found vent in tears--at least nobody ever saw them. Shewent about as cheerfully
, to all appearance, as before, only--and thisAllan felt and knew--she tried now to have her boy near her as often asshe could. Helen was less brave. Helen was but a girl, little morethan a child, and if the truth must be told, she very often criedherself to sleep of nights. Her mother used to find the pillow wet inthe morning, and well knew the cause.

  But there was one thing they both could do--they could pray. And what acomfort that was! Oh! what a weary, dreary wilderness this world ofours would be if this power of praying were denied us, if we could notappeal in times of grief or danger to our kind