R, he would have seen the sun sweep an entire circle in the sky. But
calms have delayed him, and now the sun just dips below the horizon at
midnight. A good stiff, southerly breeze of a few hours would take him
far enough north; but he cannot command the winds to blow, although Bob
Bowie, the steward, evidently thinks he can make it blow by whistling!
The sea is like a sheet of glass. Meanwhile, Fred and his friends are
enjoying all the delight of daylight which is perpetual. Every
thoughtful reader will at once perceive t