t, active men in the prime of life,
nearly all of whom had been more or less accustomed to the
whale-fishing, and some of the harpooners were giants in muscular
development and breadth of shoulder, if not in height.

Chief among these harpooners was Amos Parr, a short, thick-set, powerful
man of about thirty-five, who had been at sea since he was a little boy,
and had served in the fisheries of both the Northern and Southern Seas.
No one knew what country had the honour of producing him--indeed, he was
ignorant of that point himself; for, although he had vivid recollections
of his childhood having been spent among green hills, and trees, and
streamlets, he was sent to sea with a strange captain before he was old
enough to care about the name of his native land. Afterwards he ran away
from his ship, and so lost all chance of ever discovering who he was;
but, as he sometimes remarked, he didn't much care who he was, so long
as he was _himself_; so it didn't matter. From a slight peculiarity in
his accent, and other qualities, it was surmised that he must be an
Irishman--a supposition which he rather encouraged, being partial to the
sons, and particularly partial to the daughters, of the Emerald Isle,
one of which last he had married just six months before setting out on
this whaling expedition.

Such were the _Dolphin_ and her crew, and merrily they bowled along
over the broad Atlantic with favouring winds, and without meeting with
anything worthy of note until they neared the coast of Greenland.

One fine morning, just as the party in the cabin had finished breakfast,
and were dallying with the last few morsels of the repast, as men who
have more leisure than they desire are wont to do, there was a sudden
shock felt, and a slight tremor passed through the ship as if something
had struck her.

"Ha!" exclaimed Captain Guy, finishing his cup of chocolate, "there goes
the first bump."

"Ice ahead, sir," said the first mate, looking down the skylight.

"Is there much?" asked the captain, rising and taking down a small
telescope from the hook on which it usually hung.

"Not much, sir--only a stream; but there is an ice-blink right ahead all
along the horizon."

"How's her head, Mr. Bolton?"

"Nor'-west and by north, sir."

Before this brief conversation came to a close, Fred Ellice and Tom
Singleton sprang up the companion ladder, and stood on the deck gazing
ahead with feelings of the deepest interest. Both youths