On the same evening Mr. Count mustered all hands on the quarter-deck, and addressed us thus:  “Men, Captain Slocum is dead, and, as a consequence, I command the ship.  Behave yourself like men, not presuming upon kindness or imagining that I am a weak, vacillating old man with whom you can do as you like, and you will find in me a skipper who will do his duty by you as far as lies in his power, nor expect more from you than you ought to render.  If, however, you do try any tricks, remember that I am an old hand, equal to most of the games that men get up to.  I do want—­if you will help me—­to make this a comfortable as well as a successful ship.  I hope with all my heart we shall succeed.”

In answer to this manly and affecting little speech, which confirmed my previous estimate of Captain Count’s character, were he but free to follow the bent of his natural, kindly inclinations, and which I have endeavoured to translate out of his usual dialect, a hearty cheer was raised by all hands, the first ebullition of general good feeling manifested throughout the voyage.  Hearts rose joyfully at the prospect of comfort to be gained by thoughtfulness on the part of the commander; nor from that time forward did any sign of weariness of the ship or voyage show itself among us, either on deck or below.

The news soon spread among us that, in consequence of the various losses of boats and gear, the captain deemed it necessary to make for Honolulu, where fresh supplies could readily be obtained.  We had heard many glowing accounts from visitors, when “gamming,” of the delights of this well-known port of call for whalers, and under our new commander we had little doubt that we should be allowed considerable liberty during our stay.  So we were quite impatient to get along fretting considerably at the persistent fogs which prevented our making much progress while in the vicinity of the Kuriles.  But we saw no more bowheads, for which none of us forward were at all sorry.  We had got very tired of the stink of their blubber, and the never-ending worry connected with the preservation of the baleen; besides, we had not yet accumulated any fund of enthusiasm about getting a full ship, except as a reason for shortening the voyage, and we quite understood that what black oil we had got would be landed at Hawaii, so that our visit to the Okhotsk Sea, with its resultant store of oil, had not really brought our return home any nearer, as we at first hoped it would.

A great surprise was in store for me.  I knew that Captain Count was favourably inclined towards me, for he had himself told me so, but nothing was further from my thoughts than promotion.  However, one Sunday afternoon, when we were all peacefully enjoying the unusual rest (we had no Sundays in Captain Slocum’s time), the captain sent for me.  He informed me that, after mature consideration, he had chosen me to fill the vacancy made by the death of Mistah Jones.  Mr. Cruce was now mate; the