they went, now rising with a puff followed by a wisp of vapor, then plunging into the deep again.  There was something in their large movements very imposing, and yet very graceless.  There seemed to be no muscular effort, no exertion of any force from within, and no more flexibility in their motions than if they had been built of timber.  They appeared to move very much as a wooden whale might be supposed to move down a mighty rapid, roiling and plunging and borne along irresistibly by the current.  As they rose, we could see their mouths occasionally, and the lighter colors of the skin below.  As they went under, their huge, black tails, great winged things not unlike the screw-wheel of a propeller, tipped up above the waves.  Now and then one would give the water a good round slap, the noise of which smote sharply upon the ear, like the crack of a pistol in an alley.  It was a novel sight to watch them in their play, or labor, rather; for they were feeding upon the caplin, pretty little fishes that swarm along these shores at this particular season.  We could track them beneath the surface about as well as upon it.  In the sunshine, and in contrast with the fog, the sea was a very dark blue or deep purple.  Above the whales the water was green, a darker green as they descended, a lighter green as they came up.  Large oval spots of changeable green water, moving silently and shadow-like along, in strong contrast with the surrounding dark, marked the places where the monsters were gliding below.  When their broad, blackish backs were above the waves, there was frequently a ring or ruffle of snowy surf, formed by the breaking of the swell around the edges of the fish.  The review of whales, the only review we had witnessed in Her Majesty’s dominions, was, on the whole, an imposing spectacle.  We turned from it to witness another of a more brilliant character.

To the north and east, the ocean, dark and sparkling, was, by the magic action of the wind, entirely clear of fog; and there, about two miles distant, stood revealed the iceberg in all its cold and solitary glory.  It was of a greenish white, and of the Greek-temple form, seeming to be over a hundred feet high.  We gazed some minutes with silent delight on the splendid and impressive object, and then hastened down to the boat, and pulled away with all speed to reach it, if possible, before the fog should cover it again, and in time for C. to paint it.  The moderation of the oarsmen and the slowness of our progress were quite provoking.  I watched the sun, the distant fog, the wind and waves, the increasing motion of the boat, and the seemingly retreating berg.  A good half-hour’s toil had carried us into broad waters, and yet, to all appearance, very little nearer.  The wind was freshening from the south, the sea was rising, thin mists, a species of scout from the main body of the fog lying off in the east, were scudding across our track.  James Goss, our captain, threw out a hint of a little difficulty in getting back.