Two more small cows were all that rewarded our search during the next fortnight, and we began to feel serious doubts as to the success of our season upon the line grounds, after all.  Still, on the whole, our voyage up to the present had not been what might fairly be called unsuccessful, for we were not yet two years away from New Bedford, while we had considerably more than two thousand barrels of oil on board—­more, in fact, than two-thirds of a full cargo.  But if a whale were caught every other day for six months, and then a month elapsed without any being seen, grumbling would be loud and frequent, all the previous success being forgotten in the present stagnation.  Perhaps it is not so different in other professions nearer home?

Christmas Day drew near, beloved of Englishmen all the world over, though thought little of by Americans.  The two previous ones spent on board the cachalot have been passed over without mention, absolutely no notice being taken of the season by any one on board, to all appearance.  In English ships some attempt is always made to give the day somewhat of a festive character, and to maintain the national tradition of good-cheer and goodwill in whatever part of the world you may happen to be.  For some reason or other, perhaps because of the great increase in comfort; we had all experienced lately, I felt the approach of the great Christian anniversary very strongly; although, had I been in London, I should probably have spent it in lonely gloom, having no relatives or friends whom I might visit.  But what of that?  Christmas is Christmas; and, if we have no home, we think of the place where our home should be; and whether, as cynics sneer, Dickens invented the English Christmas or not, its observance has taken deep root among us.  May its shadow never be less!

On Christmas morning I mounted to the crow’s-nest at daybreak, and stood looking with never-failing awe at the daily marvel of the sunrise.  Often and often have I felt choking for words to express the tumult of thoughts aroused by this sublime spectacle.  Hanging there in cloudland, the tiny microcosm at one’s feet forgotten, the grandeur of the celestial outlook is overwhelming.  Many and many a time I have bowed my head and wept in pure reverence at the majesty manifested around me while the glory of the dawn increased and brightened, till with one exultant bound the sun appeared.

For some time I stood gazing straight ahead of me with eyes that saw not, filled with wonder and admiration.  I must have been looking directly at the same spot for quite a quarter of an hour, when suddenly, as if I had but just opened my eyes, I saw the well-known bushy spout of a sperm whale.  I raised the usual yell, which rang through the stillness discordantly, startling all hands out of their lethargy like bees out of a hive.  After the usual preliminaries, we were all afloat with sails set, gliding slowly over the sleeping sea towards the unconscious objects of our attention.  The captain did not lower this time, as there only appeared to be three fish, none of them seeming large.  Though at any distance it is extremely difficult to assess the size of whales, the spout being very misleading.  Sometimes a full-sized whale will show a small spout, while a twenty-barrel cow will exhale a volume of vapour extensive enough for two or three at once.