through the channels of open water. Soon after, the sun broke out in
cloudless splendour, and the wind fell entirely, leaving the ocean in a
dead calm.

"Let's go to the fore-top, Tom," said Fred, seizing his friend by the
arm and hastening to the shrouds.

In a few seconds they were seated alone on the little platform at the
top of the fore-mast, just where it is connected with the fore-top-mast,
and from this elevated position they gazed in silent delight upon the
fairy-like scene.

Those who have never stood at the mast-head of a ship at sea in a dead
calm cannot comprehend the feeling of intense solitude that fills the
mind in such a position. There is nothing analogous to it on land. To
stand on the summit of a tower and look down on the busy multitude below
is not the same, for there the sounds are quite different in _tone_, and
signs of life are visible all over the distant country, while cries from
afar reach the ear, as well as those from below. But from the mast-head
you hear only the few subdued sounds under your feet--all beyond is
silence; you behold only the small, oval-shaped platform that is your
_world_--beyond lies the calm desolate ocean. On deck you cannot realize
this feeling, for there sails and yards tower above you, and masts, and
boats, and cordage intercept your view; but from above you _take in_ the
intense minuteness of your home at a single glance--you stand aside, as
it were, and in some measure comprehend the insignificance of the
_thing_ to which you have committed your life.

The scene witnessed by our friends at the masthead of the _Dolphin_ on
this occasion was surpassingly beautiful. Far as the eye could stretch