THE WORLD OF ICE. ll

timbers, too, are scarce thick enough for goin’ bump
agin the ice o’ Davis’ Straits. Howsom’iver, I’ve seen
worse craft drivin’ a good trade in the Polar Seas.”

“She’s a first-rate craft in all respects; and you
have too high an opinion of your own judgment,”
replied the youth indignantly. “Do you suppose that
my father, who is an older man than yourself and as
good a sailor, would buy a ship, and fit her out, and
go off to the whale-fishery in her, if he did not think
her a good one?”

“Ah! Master Fred, you're a chip of the old block
—neck or nothing—carry on all sail till you tear the
masts out of her! Reef the tgallant sails of your
temper, boy, and don’t run foul of an old man who
has been all but a wet-nurse to ye—taught ye to
walk, and swim, and pull an oar, and build ships,
and has hauled ye out o’ the sea when ye fell in
—-from the time ye could barely stump along on
two legs, lookin’ like as if ye was more nor half-seas-
over.”

 

“Well, Buzzby,” replied the boy, laughing, “if
youve been all that to me, I think you have been a
wet-nurse too! But why do you run down my
father’s ship? Do you think I’m going to stand
that? No! not even from you, old boy.”

“ Hallo ! youngster,” shouted a voice from the deck
of the vessel in question, “run up and tell your father
we're all ready, and if he don’t make haste he’ll lose
the tide, so he will, and that’ll make us have to start
on a Friday, it will, an’ that’ll not do for me, nohow