same time, may be ready to save the hands.  Five of the thirteen are always Indians; the last of the complement remains on board to steer the vessel during the action.  They have no wages; each draws a certain established share in partnership with the proprietor of the vessel; by which economy they are all proportionately concerned in the success of the enterprise, and all equally alert and vigilant.  None of these whalemen ever exceed the age of forty:  they look on those who are past that period not to be possessed of all that vigour and agility which so adventurous a business requires.  Indeed if you attentively consider the immense disproportion between the object assailed and the assailants; if you think on the diminutive size, and weakness of their frail vehicle; if you recollect the treachery of the element on which this scene is transacted; the sudden and unforeseen accidents of winds, etc., you will readily acknowledge that it must require the most consummate exertion of all the strength, agility, and judgment, of which the bodies and minds of men are capable, to undertake these adventurous encounters.

As soon as they arrive in those latitudes where they expect to meet with whales, a man is sent up to the mast head; if he sees one, he immediately cries out AWAITE PAWANA, here is a whale:  they all remain still and silent until he repeats PAWANA, a whale, when in less than six minutes the two boats are launched, filled with every implement necessary for the attack.  They row toward the whale with astonishing velocity; and as the Indians early became their fellow-labourers in this new warfare, you can easily conceive how the Nattick expressions became familiar on board the whale-boats.  Formerly it often happened that whale vessels were manned with none but Indians and the master; recollect also that the Nantucket people understand the Nattick, and that there are always five of these people on board.  There are various ways of approaching the whale, according to their peculiar species; and this previous knowledge is of the utmost consequence.  When these boats are arrived at a reasonable distance, one of them rests on its oars and stands off, as a witness of the approaching engagement; near the bows of the other the harpooner stands up, and on him principally depends the success of the enterprise.  He wears a jacket closely buttoned, and round his head a handkerchief tightly bound:  in his hands he holds the dreadful weapon, made of the best steel, marked sometimes with the name of their town, and sometimes with that of their vessel; to the shaft of which the end of a cord of due length, coiled up with the utmost care in the middle of the boat, is firmly tied; the other end is fastened to the bottom of the boat.  Thus prepared they row in profound silence, leaving the whole conduct of the enterprise to the harpooner and to the steersman, attentively following their directions.  When the former judges himself to be near enough to the