But why does he make that tremendous noise only once, and then go under water again?

You must remember that he is not a fish.  A fish takes the water in through his mouth continually, and it runs over his gills, and out behind through his gill-covers.  So the gills suck-up the air out of the water, and send it into the fish’s blood, just as they do in the newt-larva.

Yes, I know.

But the whale breathes with lungs like you and me; and when he goes under water he has to hold his breath, as you and I have.

What a long time he can hold it.

Yes.  He is a wonderful diver.  Some whales, they say, will keep under for an hour.  But while he is under, mind, the air in his lungs is getting foul, and full of carbonic acid, just as it would in your lungs, if you held your breath.  So he is forced to come up at last:  and then out of his blowers, which are on the top of his head, he blasts out all the foul breath, and with it the water which has got into his mouth, in a cloud of spray.  Then he sucks in fresh air, as much as he wants, and dives again, as you saw him do just now.

And what does he do under water?

Look—­and you will see.  Look at those birds.  We will sail up to them; for Mr. Whale will probably rise among them soon.

Oh, what a screaming and what a fighting!  How many sorts there are!  What are those beautiful little ones, like great white swallows, with crested heads and forked tails, who hover, and then dip down and pick up something?

Terns—­sea-swallows.  And there are gulls in hundreds, you see, large and small, gray-backed and black-backed; and over them all two or three great gannets swooping round and round.

Oh! one has fallen into the sea!

Yes, with a splash just like a cannon ball.  And here he comes up again, with a fish in his beak.  If he had fallen on your head, with that beak of his, he would have split it open.  I have heard of men catching gannets by tying a fish on a board, and letting it float; and when the gannet strikes at it he drives his bill into the board, and cannot get it out.

But is not that cruel?

I think so.  Gannets are of no use, for eating, or anything else.

What a noise!  It is quite deafening.  And what are those black birds about, who croak like crows, or parrots?

Look at them.  Some have broad bills, with a white stripe on it, and cry something like the moor-hens at home.  Those are razor-bills.

And what are those who say “marrock,” something like a parrot?

The ones with thin bills? they are guillemots, “murres” as we call them in Devon:  but in some places they call them “marrocks,” from what they say.

And each has a little baby bird swimming behind it.  Oh! there:  the mother has cocked up her tail and dived, and the little one is swimming about looking for her!  How it cries!  It is afraid of the yacht.