My conductor resumed as follows:—­“As I told you before, the whale is the staple of this island.  You observe that his skin serves us as a house; from his bones we form all our implements—­from his sinews, our thickest ropes down to our finest thread.  The dress we wear is composed of the belly part of the skin, dressed with a sort of soap, composed of the alkali obtained from the sea-weed which abounds in the lake, and the oil of the whale.  His blubber serves us for fuel and candle; his flesh for meat, and the milk is invaluable to us.  It is true, we have other resources; we have our lizards, and a variety of fish and shell-fish; and when we are shut up in the winter among the icebergs, we procure the flesh and skins of the seals and the polar bear.  But we have no vegetable of any kind; and although the want of bread may at first be unpleasant, a few weeks will reconcile you to the privation.  But it is time to repose after your fatigues—­I will report your arrival to the great harpooner, after I have shown you to your chamber.”  He then conducted me to an inner room, where I found a couch, composed of the skins of the polar bears, on which I threw myself, and in a few minutes was fast asleep.

The next morning I was awakened by my host.  “If you wish to see the whales milked, this is the hour that they are called in; a short walk will explain more to you than many hours’ conversation.”

I arose perfectly refreshed from my long nap, and followed my conductor.  We passed a large tank.  “This is our water; we are obliged not to waste it, although we have a sufficiency; the tank is coated by a cement, formed of lime, obtained by the burning of the shells of fish.  We make all our vessels that are submitted to the fire, of the same substance, mixed with pounded lava; it is burnt in the fire, and glazed with sea-salt.”

We arrived at the edge of the lake, where we came to a large shallow dock, cut out of the lava in the side, in which were about two dozen young whales, who followed my host as he walked round the edge.

These are my calves; we do not admit the mothers until we have first drawn off what milk we require.

Several men now came down to the beach:  one of them blew a horn, formed out of a part of the horn of a sea unicorn, and immediately a herd of whales collected at the sound, and swam towards the beach.  They all answered to their names; and when the men waded in the water up to their knees, quietly grounded on their sides, so as to present one of their udders to them, clear of the water.  This was squeezed by four men, and the contents received into a large pail, composed of the bones of a whale, neatly hooped together by the same substance.

As soon as the breast of the animal was empty, with a lash of its tail it recovered the deep water, and swam round and round in small circles, near to the spot.

“We always leave one breast for the calf,” observed my host; “when they are all milked, I shall open the pen and let the mothers in.”