we were cruising in open water soon afterward with two whaling ships in sight, the reindeer and the helen marr, both barkentines and carrying five boats each, when we raised a school of bowheads straight ahead and about five miles distant. there were twenty-five or thirty whales and a broad patch of sea was covered with their incessant fountains. the other ships saw them about the same time. the long-drawn, musical "blo-o-o-w!" from their mastheads came to us across the water. aboard the brig, the watch was called and all hands were mustered to the boats. falls were thrown off the hooks and we stood by to lower as soon as the captain gave the word. there was equal bustle on the other ships. traveling before a favoring breeze in the same direction as the whales, the three vessels waited until they could work closer. each captain in the meanwhile kept a watchful eye on the others. none of them proposed to let his rivals get the start. the reindeer was to windward of us, the helen marr on our lee.

when the ships had reached within a mile of the whales captain shorey sent our boats down. instantly the other skippers did the same. soon thirteen whale boats were speeding on the chase.

fine sailing weather it was, with a fresh breeze ruffling the surface of a gently heaving sea. with all sails set and keeping well apart, the boats heeled over, their crews sitting lined up along the weather gunwales. there seemed no chance of any clash or misunderstanding. there were plenty of whales, and with any luck there would be glory enough and profit enough for all.

like a line of skirmishers deployed against an enemy, the boats stole silently toward the whales. we soon saw the great animals were busy feeding. a few inches below the surface the sea was filled with "whale food," a round, diaphanous, disk-like jellyfish about the size of a silver dollar and perfectly white. when he arrived in this arctic ocean whale pasture the water seemed snowy with the millions of jellyfish. with open jaws, the whales swam this way and that, making zigzag swaths a hundred yards long through the gelatinous masses, their great heads and backs well out of water, their fins now and then flapping ponderously. when they had entangled a sufficient quantity of the jellyfish in the long hair hanging from the inner edges of their teeth they closed their mouths with reverberating snaps that sent the water splashing out on either side.

before the whales were aware of danger, the boats rushed in among them. each boatheader singled out a whale, and five boats were quickly fast—two from the reindeer, two from the helen marr, and mr. winchester's boat. wild turmoil and confusion instantly ensued among the great animals. they went plunging below in alarm and the boats that made no strike at the first onslaught had no chance thereafter. the whales did not stop to investigate the causes of the sudden interruption of their banquet. the sea swallowed them up and we did not see them again. a little later we caught a glimpse of their fountains twinkling against the sky on the far horizon.

mr. winchester's whale was wriggling about among the jellyfish with jaws widely distended when the boat slipped silently upon it. as the prow bumped against its black skin, long john drove a harpoon up to the hitches in its back. with a tonite bomb shattered in its vitals, the monster sounded in a smother of foam. in the dynamic violence with which it got under way it literally stood on its head. its flukes, easily twenty feet from tip to tip, shot at least thirty feet into the air. they swung over to one side, the great body forming a high arch, and struck the sea with a resounding smack. then they sailed on high again to come down on the other side with another broadside smash. again they rose like lightning into the air and the whale seemed to slip down perpendicularly into the ocean.

it was evident at the outset that the animal was badly wounded. it swam only a short distance below the surface and not rapidly, sending up thousands of bubbles to mark its course. this broad highway of bubbles curved and turned, but mr. winchester, who had been smart enough not to lower his sail, followed it as a hound follows the trail of a deer. the boat sailed almost as swiftly as the whale swam and was able to keep almost directly above it. when the whale came to the surface the mate was upon it and long john's second harpoon stopped it dead in its track. the whale went through no flurry, but died instantly and rolled over on its back.

with excitement all about, there was nothing for mr. landers or gabriel to do. so we sat still in the boats and watched the swift incidents of the far-flung battle.

one of the whales struck by a boat from the reindeer breached almost completely out of water as soon as it felt the sting of the harpoon. it floundered down like a falling tower, rolled about for a moment before sinking to a swimming depth, and made off at mad speed. it rose within twenty feet of where our boat lay at a standstill and we could see its wild eye, as big as a saucer, as the injured creature blew up a fountain whose bloody spray fell all over us. the boat it was dragging soon went flashing past us, the crew sitting crouched down and silent.

"swing to him, fellers," shouted kaiuli, standing up and waving his hat about his head.

but the others paid no attention to our south sea island savage. they were intent just then on tragedy. their boat struck the whale at its next rise. the animal went into a violent flurry. it beat the sea into a lather with fins and flukes and darted around on its side in a semi-circle, clashing its great jaws, until it finally collapsed and lay limp and lifeless.

the whale struck by the other boat from the reindeer ran out a tub of line, but a second boat had come up in time to bend on its own line and took the animal in tow. before the whale had run out this new tub, a third boat harpooned it. with two boats fast to it, it continued its flight to windward and was at least two miles from us when its pursuers at last overtook and killed it.

two boats from the helen marr struck whales while the monsters were feeding within an oar's length of each other. one whale started off at right angles to the direction taken by the other. it looked for a time as if the two lines would become entangled and the boats would crash together. but the whale that cut across the other's course swam above the latter's line and dragged its boat so swiftly after it that a collision was averted by a few feet.

one of the whales was bombed and killed after a short flight. the other acted in a way that whales hardly ever act. it ran hard to windward at first, as whales usually do when struck. then it suddenly turned and ran in an exactly opposite direction. this unexpected change in its course almost upset the boat, which was jerked violently over on its beam-ends and spun round like a top, while the crew held on for dear life and barely escaped being pitched into the sea. once righted and on its way again, the boat rapidly hauled up on the whale, whose fast-going vitality showed in its diminished speed. after a flight that had covered at least a mile, the whale was finally killed close to the spot at which it had first been struck.

when, the sharp, fast work of the boats ended, five mighty carcasses lay stretched upon the sea. the great whale drive, which had lasted less than an hour, had bagged game worth something like $60,000.

the three ships soon sailed to close quarters and the boats had a comparatively easy time getting the whales alongside. that night the try-works were started and big cressets whose flames were fed by "scrap" flared up on all the ships, lighting them in ghostly-wise from the deck to the topmost sail.

at the cutting in of this whale i had my first experience at the windlass. the heaviest labor falls to the sailors who man the windlass and hoist in the great blanket pieces of blubber and the "old head." gabriel, the happiest-spirited old soul aboard, bossed the job, as he always did, and cheered the sailors and made the hard work seem like play by his constant chanteys—those catchy, tuneful, working songs of the sea. all the old sailors on the brig knew these songs by heart and often sang them on the topsail halyard or while reefing on the topsail yard. the green hands soon picked up the words and airs of the choruses and joined in. the day laborer on land has no idea how work at sea is lightened by these songs.

gabriel knew no end of them, and in a round, musical voice led the men at the windlass in such rollicking old-time sea airs as "whiskey for the johnnies," "blow the man down," "blow, boys, blow," and "rolling rio." he would sing a verse and the sailors would stand with their hands on the windlass bars until he had concluded. then they would heave away with a will and make the pawls clank and clatter as they roared out the chorus. the old negro's favorite was "whiskey for the johnnies." it had a fine rousing chorus and we liked to sing it not only for its stirring melody but because we always harbored a hope—which, i may add, was never realized—that the captain would be touched by the words and send forward a drop of liquor with which to wet our whistles. gabriel would begin in this way:

"o whiskey is the life of man."

and the sailors as they heaved would chorus:

"o whiskey, o johnny.

o whiskey is the life of man,

whiskey for the johnnies."

then gabriel would sing:

"whiskey killed my poor old dad,

whiskey drove my mother mad,

whiskey caused me much abuse,

whiskey put me in the calaboose,

whiskey fills a man with care,

whiskey makes a man a bear."

and the men would come through with the refrain:

"whiskey, johnny.

i drink whiskey when i can.

o whiskey for the johnnies."

at the end of our song which ran through verses enough to bring a blanket piece of blubber swinging inboard, we would look wistfully toward the quarter-deck and wonder if the "old man" would take our musical hint.

or gabriel would start up "rolling rio":

"i'll sing you a song of the fish of the sea."

the men would thunder:

"rolling rio."

gabriel would continue:

"as i was going down broadway street

a pretty young girl i chanced to meet."

and the sailors would sing:

"to my rolling rio grande.

hurrah, you rio, rolling rio.

so fare you well, my pretty young girl,

i'm bound for the rio grande."

"blow, boys, blow" was another with which we made the arctic ring. the other ships could not have failed to hear its swinging rhythm as it burst from our lusty lungs in this fashion:

gabriel:

"a yankee ship came down the river."

the sailors:

"blow, boys, blow."

gabriel:

"and who do you think was skipper of her?

dandy jim of old carolina."

sailors:

"blow, my bully boys, blow."

gabriel:

"and who do you think was second greaser?

why, pompey squash, that big buck nigger."

sailors:

"blow, boys, blow."

gabriel:

"and what do you think they had for dinner?

monkey lights and donkey's liver."

sailors:

"blow, my bully boys, blow."

gabriel:

"and what do you think they had for supper?

old hard tack and yankee leather.

then blow, my boys, for better weather.

blow, my boys, i love to hear you."

sailors:

"blow, my bully boys, blow."

so with a heave and a song we soon had our whale stowed, bone and blubber, below hatches. the reindeer and the helen marr had drifted far away from us by the time our work was finished, but they were still in sight and their try-works smoking. our whale yielded 1,800 pounds of bone.