In a previous chapter I have referred to the fact of a bounty being offered to whoever should first sight a useful whale, payable only in the event of the prize being secured by the ship.  In consequence of our ill-success, and to stimulate the watchfulness of all, that bounty was now increased from ten pounds of tobacco to twenty, or fifteen dollars, whichever the winner chose to have.  Most of us whites regarded this as quite out of the question for us, whose untrained vision was as the naked eye to a telescope when pitted against the eagle-like sight of the Portuguese.  Nevertheless, we all did our little best, and I know, for one, that when I descended from my lofty perch, after a two hours’ vigil, my eyes often ached and burned for an hour afterwards from the intensity of my gaze across the shining waste of waters.

Judge, then, of the surprise of everybody, when one forenoon watch, three days after we had lost sight of Trinidada, a most extraordinary sound was heard from the fore crow’s-nest.  I was, at the time, up at the main, in company with Louis, the mate’s harpooner, and we stared across to see whatever was the matter, The watchman was unfortunate Abner Cushing, whose trivial offence had been so severely punished a short time before, and he was gesticulating and howling like a madman.  Up from below came the deep growl of the skipper, “Foremast head, there, what d’ye say?” “B-b-b-blow, s-s-sir,” stammered Abner; “a big whale right in the way of the sun, sir.”  “See anythin’, Louey?” roared the skipper to my companion, just as we had both “raised” the spout almost in the glare cast by the sun.  “Yessir,” answered Louis; “but I kaint make him eout yet, sir.”  “All right; keep yer eye on him, and lemme know sharp;” and away he went aft for his glasses.

The course was slightly altered, so that we headed direct for the whale, and in less than a minute afterwards we saw distinctly the great black column of a sperm whale’s head rise well above the sea, scattering a circuit of foam before it, and emitting a bushy, tufted burst of vapour into the clear air.  “There she white-waters!  Ah bl-o-o-o-o-o-w, blow, blow!” sang Louis; and then, in another tone, “Sperm whale, sir; big, ’lone fish, headin’ ’beout east-by-nothe.”  “All right.  ’Way down from aloft,” answered the skipper, who was already half-way up the main-rigging; and like squirrels we slipped out of our hoops and down the backstays, passing the skipper like a flash as he toiled upwards, bellowing orders as he went.  Short as our journey down had been, when we arrived on deck we found all ready for a start.  But as the whale was at least seven miles away, and we had a fair wind for him, there was no hurry to lower, so we all stood at attention by our respective boats, waiting for the signal.  I found, to my surprise, that, although I was conscious of a much more rapid heart-beat than usual, I was not half so scared as I expected to be—­that the excitement was