62 
A VOYAGE TO SPITZBERGEN. 
the recent gales. “ Dinner, sir!” says the French 
cook, adding in a strong north country accent, “it’s 
right good stuff.” We quickly put away the thoughts 
the parting has sent crowding into our brain, and we 
do our best to conceal our feelings. Few men at 
such a moment can be totally indifferent at starting 
for a long journey, especially when the leave-taking 
culminates in a tumbling sea. There are emotions at 
such a time which the untravelled Englishman has 
never experienced. Such a one knows nothing of 
the strange sensation of sailing away from home and 
friends, league after league, day after day over a wide 
waste of sea, to another zone where every object 
to which use has made him familiar, gives place to 
new phases of nature, wearing for him a totally 
different aspect—to distant regions he may be familiar 
with, no doubt, from the perusal of books whose 
pages depict vividly the scenes they describe; but, 
after all, book descriptions, however good, fall very 
short when attempting to convey impressions which 
experience alone can supply. All our efforts to over¬ 
come the obstinate resistance of the gale which now 
rages from the north proving quite ineffectual, we are 
compelled to run in again and seek shelter. We anchor 
under the lee, with a crowd of other craft, who, like 
ourselves, are waiting for the wind. As the day breaks 
