The arrangement was carried out almost to the letter, as the trapper left the inn at an early hour, bidding Harry an affectionate farewell, with the confident hope that they would soon meet again.
It was nearly noon when the Albatross crossed the bar at the mouth of the river, ten miles further down, and placed herself fairly on the Pacific ocean.
As soon as the sloop was fairly out to sea, and sailing northward, Harry gave himself up to the enjoyment of the scene. Walking to the prow, he took a station where he was not likely to be in the way and feasted upon the view, which was a novel and deeply interesting one to him.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE WIND THAT BLEW NO GOOD.
When Harry Northend finally aroused himself from the fanciful dreams into which he had fallen, the sun had gone down, and it was already growing dark. He noticed that the sea was heavier than usual, and the ship tossed and pitched in a way that was any thing but pleasant to a landsman.
He had a dread of being sea-sick, but it may be that there was something in the rough out-door life that he had been leading during the past few months that acted as a preventive; for now, when the real test had come, in the tossing and heaving of the sea, he was not sensible of the slightest disturbance, and, as he descended into the cabin to take his supper with the captain, that functionary took occasion to congratulate him upon his good fortune.
“Perhaps I may get sick yet,” timidly returned the boy, “as we are only fairly started on our trip, I suppose.”
“Perhaps you will,” was the hearty reply of the captain, as he helped himself to a huge slice of fried pork, “though a chap, if he is going to have it, is pretty sure to show signs of it by this time. However, we are going to have rough weather before we get through.”
Harry looked up at the bronzed and bearded face with some apprehension.
“Do you mean that a storm is brewing?”