got smashed, and so on unto infinity.  At last, getting very tired of this “Portugee Parliament” of all talkers and no listeners, I went aft to get a drink of water before turning in.  The harpooners and other petty officers were grouped in the waist, earnestly discussing the pros and cons of attack upon whales.  As I passed I heard the mate’s harpooner say, “Feels like whale about.  I bet a plug (of tobacco) we raise sperm whale to-morrow.”  Nobody took his bet, for it appeared that they were mostly of the same mind, and while I was drinking I heard the officers in dignified conclave talking over the same thing.  It was Saturday evening, and while at home people were looking forward to a day’s respite from work and care, I felt that the coming day, though never taken much notice of on board, was big with the probabilities of strife such as I at least had at present no idea of.  So firmly was I possessed by the prevailing feeling.

The night was very quiet.  A gentle breeze was blowing, and the sky was of the usual “Trade” character, that is, a dome of dark blue fringed at the horizon with peaceful cumulus clouds, almost motionless.  I turned in at four a.m. from the middle watch and, as usual, slept like a babe.  Suddenly I started wide awake, a long mournful sound sending a thrill to my very heart.  As I listened breathlessly other sounds of the same character but in different tones joined in, human voices monotonously intoning in long drawn-out expirations the single word “bl-o-o-o-o-w.”  Then came a hurricane of noise overhead, and adjurations in no gentle language to the sleepers to “tumble up lively there, no skulking, sperm whales.”  At last, then, fulfilling all the presentiments of yesterday, the long dreaded moment had arrived.  Happily there was no time for hesitation, in less than two minutes we were all on deck, and hurrying to our respective boats.  There was no flurry or confusion, and except that orders were given more quietly than usual, with a manifest air of suppressed excitement, there was nothing to show that we were not going for an ordinary course of boat drill.  The skipper was in the main crow’s-nest with his binoculars presently he shouted, “Naow then, Mr. Count, lower away soon’s y’like.  Small pod o’cows, an’ one’r two bulls layin’ off to west’ard of ’em.”  Down went the boats into the water quietly enough, we all scrambled in and shoved off.  A stroke or two of the oars were given to get clear of the ship, and one another, then oars were shipped and up went the sails.  As I took my allotted place at the main-sheet, and the beautiful craft started off like some big bird, Mr. Count leant forward, saying impressively to me, “Y’r a smart youngster, an’ I’ve kinder took t’yer; but don’t ye look ahead an’ get gallied, ’r I’ll knock ye stiff wi’ th’ tiller; y’hear me?  N’ don’t ye dare to make thet sheet fast, ‘r ye’ll die so sudden y’ won’t know whar y’r hurted.”  I said as cheerfully as I could, “All right,