We estimated his length at a hundred and twenty feet, and thought he might register ‘A 1,’ at the proper office.  Captain Patterson called him a ‘bow head,’ good for a hundred barrels of oil and a large quantity of bone.  The Colonel proposed engaging him to tow us into port.  Covert wished his blubber piled in our coal bunkers; the artist sketched him, and the draughtsman thought of putting him on a Mercator’s projection.  For my part I have written the little I know of his life and experiences, but it is very little.  I cannot even say where he lodges, whose hats he wears, when his notes fall due, or whether he ever took a cobbler or the whooping cough.  Of course this incident led to stories concerning whales.  Captain Patterson told about the destruction of the ship Essex by a sperm whale thirty or more years ago.  The Colonel described the whale fishery as practiced by the Kamchadales and Aleutians.  These natives have harpoons with short lines to which they attach bladders or skin bags filled with air.  A great many boats surround a whale and stick him with as many harpoons as possible.  If successful, they will so encumber him that his strength is not equal to the buoyancy of the bladders, and in this condition he is finished with a lance.  A great feast is sure to follow his capture, and every interested native indulges in whale-steak to his stomach’s content.

[Illustration:  Aleutians catching whales.]

The day before we came in sight of land, my dog repeatedly placed his fore feet upon the rail and sniffed the wind blowing from the coast.  His inhalations were long and earnest, like those of a tobacco smoking Comanche.  In her previous voyage the Wright carried a mastiff answering to the name of Rover.  The colonel said that whenever they approached land, though long before it was in sight, Rover would put his paws on the bulwarks and direct his nose toward the shore.  His demonstrations were invariably accurate, and showed him to possess the instinct of a pilot, whatever his lack of training.  He did not enjoy the ocean and was always delighted to see land.

In 1865 an Esquimaux dog was domiciled on the barque Golden Gate, on her voyage from Norton Sound to Kamchatka.  He ran in all parts of the vessel, and made himself agreeable to every one on board.  At Petropavlovsk a Kamchadale dog became a passenger for San Francisco.  Immediately on being loosed he took possession aft and drove the Esquimaux forward.  During the whole passage he retained his place on the quarter deck and in the cabin.  Occasionally he went forward for a promenade, but he never allowed the other dog to go abaft the mainmast.  The Esquimaux endeavored to establish amicable relations, but the Kamchadale rejected all friendly overtures.

I heard of a dog on one of the Honolulu packets that took his turn at duty with the regularity of a sailor, coming on deck when his watch was called and retiring with it to the forecastle.  When the sails flapped from any cause and the clouds indicated a sudden shower, the dog gave warning with a bark—­on the sea.  I ventured to ask my informant if the animal stood the dog watch, but the question did not receive a definite answer.