THE MASTHEAD
From the day of sailing until the home port was reached at the end of a long voyage, lookouts were always kept at the fore and mainmastheads.
Even with his ship “full to the eyebrows” the whaling skipper could not resist the taking of one more whale, until every possible container, large and small, was full to running over.
The call of the lookout was a sort of wail, running through a scale of five or six notes, each man putting in his own curlicues according to the quality of his voice.
He would sustain the call as long as the blow lasted:
“A blow!—A blo-o-o-o-ow! A blow. A blow!!”
“Where away?” from the skipper.
“Two miles—weather beam—Blo-o-o-ow! Blo-o-o-o-! There she breaches—A blo-o-o-ow! A blow!—A blow!”
The Masthead