Chapter Seventeen.

Chapter Seventeen.Incidents of Whaling.Away, away the good ship flew to round the far-famed Cape Horn. Stern and majestic it rose on our starboard-hand; its hoary front, as it looked down on the meeting of two mighty oceans, bore traces of many a terrific storm. Now all was calm and bright, though the vast undulations of the ocean over which the ship rode, as they met the resistance of the cliffs, were dashed in cataracts of spray high up in the air, and gave evidence of what would be the effect when a storm was raging across them. There was something more grand in the contemplation than in the actual appearance of the scene, when we reflected where we were—on the confines of those two great seas which encompass the earth, and which wash the shores of nations so different in character—the one having attained the height of civilisation, the other being still sunk in the depths of a barbarism too terrible almost for contemplation, as I afterwards had good reason to know. Then there was that strange, vast, dreamy swell—the breathings, as it were, of some giant monster. It seemed as if some wondrous force were ever acting on that vast body of water—that it could not for a moment rest quiet in its bed, but must ever go heaving on, in calm and sunshine as well as in storm and tempest. There was likewise in sight that wild weather-beaten shore, inhabited, as report declared, by men of gigantic stature and untameable fierceness; while to the south lay those mysterious frost-bound regions untrod by the foot of man—the land of vast glaciers, mighty icebergs, and wide extended fields of ice. On we sped with a favouring breeze, till we floated calmly on the smooth surface of the Pacific off the coast of Chili.With regard to Patagonia, old Knowles told me he had been there, but that, as far as he saw, the people were not much larger than the inhabitants of many other countries. Some were big men; a few nearly seven feet high, and proportionably stout. They are capital mimics—the very parrots or magpies of the genus Man.“I say, Jack, bear a hand there now,” exclaimed one, repeating the words after a sailor who had just spoken.“What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,” said Knowles, thinking he had found a civilised man in that distant region.“What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,” repeated the savage with a grin, putting out his hand.“I should think I did! What other lingo am I likely to speak?” answered Knowles, shaking the Patagonian’s huge paw.“What other lingo am I likely to speak?” said the savage, with perfect clearness.“Why, I should have thought your own native Patagonian, if you are a Patagonian,” exclaimed Knowles, examining the savage’s not over-handsome physiognomy.“If you are a Patagonian!” said the savage, looking in like manner into Knowles’ face.“I—I’m an Englishman, I tell you!” cried Tom, somewhat puzzled.“I’m an Englishman, I tell you!” cried the Patagonian in the same indignant tone.“That’s just what I want to arrive at,” said Tom. “So now just tell me where we can get some good baccy and a glass of honest grog.”The Patagonian repeated the words.“But I ask you!” said Tom.“But I ask you!” said the savage.“I tell you I’m a stranger here!” exclaimed Tom.“I tell you I’m a stranger here!” cried the savage.“Where do you come from then?” asked Tom.“Where do you come from then?” repeated the savage.“I tell you I’m an Englishman,” cried Knowles, getting angry.“I tell you I’m an Englishman!” exclaimed the Patagonian in the same indignant tones.“That’s more than I’ll believe; and, to speak my mind plainly, I believe that you are an arrant, bamboozling hum-bug!” cried Tom. “No offence, though. You understand me?”Whether it was Tom’s expression of countenance, or the tone of his voice, I know not, but as he uttered these words, all the savages burst into loud fits of merry laughter; and as he thought they were laughing at him, he said that he should have liked to have gone in among them, and knocked them down right and left with his fists; but they were such precious big fellows, that he thought he should have got the worst of it in the scrimmage.He used with infinite gusto frequently to tell the story for our amusement.I am not quite certain, however, whether he was describing the Patagonians or the inhabitants of Terra del Fuego. The latter are very great mimics and are much smaller in size, less clothed, and more savage in appearance than the Patagonians.We touched at Valparaiso, in Chili, or, as it may be called, the Vale of Paradise. It is certainly by nature a very beautiful and healthy spot, built on a number of high hills with ravines intervening; but man, by his evil practices and crimes, made it, when I was there, much more like the Vale of Pandemonium. Drunkenness and all sorts of crimes were common, and thecuchillo—the long knife—was in constant requisition among the Spaniards, scarcely a night passing without one or more murders being committed. It was then little more than a village, but has now become quite a large town, with a number of English and American merchants settled there. The houses are built with very thick walls, to withstand the constant attacks of earthquakes which they have to undergo. Having supplied ourselves with fresh provisions and water, we sailed, and stretched away into the wide Pacific.We had left the coast of Chili about a day’s sail astern. A light easterly breeze was just ruffling the blue sea—the noon-day sun shining brightly over it—the hands going listlessly about their work, rather out of spirits at our want of success, not a whale having hitherto been seen—when the cheery shout of the first mate reached our ears from the look-out, of “There she spouts! there she spouts, boys!”In an instant every one was aroused into the fullest activity—the watch below sprung on deck—Captain Carr hurried from his cabin, and with his hand to his mouth, shouted eagerly, “Where away?—where away?”“About a mile on the starboard-bow,” cried Mr Benson, the first mate, in return.“Lower the boats, my lads!” exclaimed the captain, preparing to go in the leading one himself; the first and third mate and the boatswain went in command of the others. Both Newman and I, as new hands, remained on board, as did the second mate, to take charge of the ship.Before the boats were in the water, the whale had ceased spouting; but just as they were shoving off, the look-out broke forth in a cheerful chorus, “There again—there again—there again!” the signal that the whale was once more sending up its spout of spray into the air. The words were taken up by all on deck, while we pointed with excited looks at the whale, whose vast head and hump could be clearly distinguished as he swam, unsuspicious of evil, through the calm waters of the deep. Away flew the boats, urged on by rapid strokes, in hot pursuit. The captain took the lead. We who were left behind felt that we were accompanying them in heart and spirit. The foam bubbled and hissed round the bows of the boats as they clove their way through the water. Not a moment was there to lose—the distance was great—the whale had been for some time breathing, and might go down, and perhaps be lost altogether, before the boats could get up to her, or they might have to chase her for many miles before they could again reach her. Meantime, the wind being fair, the ship was kept almost in the wake of the boats. Away they flew; each was anxious to strike the first whale, but the captain’s took the lead, and maintained it. As they got nearer the monster, it was necessary to be careful, lest he should take the alarm, and, seeing his pursuers, go down to escape them. The men bent to their oars even more energetically than before; the captain stood up, harpoon in hand; his weapon was raised on high; we thought that the next instant it would be buried in the monster, when up went his small—the enormous flukes rose high in air—“Back of all!—back of all!” we cried; not that our voices could be heard. If not, that terrific stroke it is giving will shiver the boat in atoms. The boat glided out of the way, but just in time, though her crew were drenched with spray. Down went the whale—far, far into the depths of the ocean.Nothing is to be had without trying for it—our captain knew this well. All eyes were now turned to watch where the whale would next rise, for rise, we knew, he before long must, and in all probability within sight; so the boats paddled slowly on, the men reserving their strength for the moment when it would be required; while we on board shortened sail, that we might have the ship more under command, to follow wherever they might lead. Every one was watching with intense eagerness; the four boats were separated a short distance from each other; now and then the officers would stand up to see if the monster had risen, and then they would turn their gaze towards the ship for a signal from the look-out aboard. Still the time passed away, and no whale appeared.An hour had elapsed, when again the inspiriting shout was heard of “There she spouts! there she spouts!” the look-outs pointing, as before, over the starboard-bow, where the whale had again risen, not much more than a mile away from the boats. Again they were in rapid movement. We doubted not that this time they would reach the monster. Through our glasses we made him out to be a bull—an old greyhead, and probably a cunning fellow, one likely to try every dodge which a whale can think of to escape, and if failing to do that, and hard pressed, one who was likely to turn on his pursuers, and attack them with his open jaws or mighty flukes.“Well, whatever freak he takes, our captain is the man to meet him,” observed old Tom Knowles—a long-experienced hand in the South-Seas, but who, having hurt his arm, was unable to go in the boats. “As long as daylight lasts, he’ll not give up the chase.”I had thought that when a whale was seen, it was merely necessary to pull after him, dig the harpoons into him, and allow him to drag the boats along till he died; but I found it was often a far more difficult task than this to kill a whale.“There again—there again!” shouted the look-outs from aloft; and the cry was repeated by all on deck, while the whale continued spouting. Fast as at first, if not faster, the boats flew after him—the captain’s again leading.“This time we’ll have him, surely,” exclaimed Newman, who was as eager as any of us.“Not quite so sure of that, Ned,” observed old Knowles. “I’ve seen one of these old chaps go down half-a-dozen times before a harpoon was struck in him, and, after all, with three or four in his side, break away, and carry them off just as the sun was setting, and there was no chance of getting another sight of him. I say, never be certain that you’ve got him, till he’s safe in the casks. I’ve seen one, after he has been killed, go down like a shot, for no reason that anyone on board could tell, except to spite us for having caught him.”While old Tom was speaking, the boats had approached close to the whale. For my own part, after what I had heard, I fully expected to see him lift his flukes, and go down as he had done before. The captain’s boat was up to him—the rest hung back, not to run the risk of alarming the wary monster. The captain stood up in the bows—a fine bold figure he looked, as he poised his glittering harpoon in his right hand, high above his head. “There!—peak your oars,” cried old Tom, as the crew raised them with a flourish to a perpendicular position, having given the boat sufficient impetus to take her alongside the whale. Off flew the weapon, impelled by the captain’s unerring arm, and buried itself up to the socket in the fat coating with which the leviathan was clothed.“It’s socket up!” cried old Knowles. “Hurrah, lads—hurrah! our first whale’s struck—good-luck, good-luck—hurrah, hurrah!” The cheer was taken up by all on board, as well as by those in the boats. They now gave way with a will after the whale; the harpooner, as another boat got up, sending his weapon into its side.But it is no child’s play now. The captain had time to dart a lance into him, when, “Stern all—stern all!” was now the cry of the headsman; and the crews, with their utmost strength, backed the boats out of the way of the infuriated animal, which in his agony began to lash the water with his huge flukes, and strike out in every direction with a force which would have shattered to atoms any boat they met. Now his vast head rose completely out of the water—now his tail, as he writhed with the pain the weapons had inflicted. The whole surface of the surrounding ocean was lashed into foam by the reiterated strokes of those mighty flukes, while the boats were deluged with the spray he threw aloft—the sound of the blows reverberating far away across the water. The boat-steerer now stood ready to let the lines run through the loggerhead over the bows of the boat. Should anyone be seized by their coils as they are running out, his death would be certain. Soon finding the hopelessness of contending with his enemies above water, the whale lifted his flukes and sounded.Down, down he went into the depths of the ocean. Away flew the line over the bows of the boat. Its rapid motion would have set fire to the wood, had not the headsman kept pouring water over it, as it passed through its groove.An oar was held up from the captain’s boat: it was a sign that nearly the whole of their line, of two hundred fathoms, had run out. With caution, and yet rapidity, the first mate in the second boat bent on his line; soon the captain’s came to an end, and then that flew out as rapidly as the first had done. To assist in stopping the whale’s downward course, drogues were now bent on to the line as it ran out; but they appeared to have little more effect in impeding his progress than a log-ship has in stopping the way of a vessel; and yet they have, in reality, much more, as every pound-weight in addition tells on the back of a racer.Again an oar went up, and the third boat bent on, adding more drogues to stop his way. They at length appeared to have effect. “There; haul in the slack,” cried old Tom. “He’s rising, lads; he’s rising!”The boat-steerer was seen in the last boat busily coiling away the line in the tub as he hauled it in. When he had got all his line, that belonging to the next boat was in like manner coiled away; then the captain’s line was hauled in.Thick bubbles now rose in rapid succession to the surface, followed by a commotion of the water, and the huge head of the monster rushed suddenly upward, sending forth a dense spout on high. The captain’s boat was now hauled gently on, the boat-steerer guiding it close up to the fin of the wounded whale. Again Captain Carr stood up with his long lance in hand, and plunged it, as few on board could have done, deep into his side. At the same moment the rest of the boats pulled up on the opposite side, the harpooner in the leading one striking his harpoon into him. Again the cry arose of “Stern all—stern all!” It was time, indeed, to get out of the way, for the whale seemed to feel that he was engaged in his last struggles for freedom and for life. He threw himself with all his monstrous bulk completely out of the water, in a vain attempt to get loose from his foes. Off from him all the boats backed.He now became the assailant. He rushed at them with his head and lower jaw let drop, seemingly capable of devouring one of them entire. I almost thought he would; but he was already fatigued with his wounds and previous exertions. The line, too, of the mate’s boat had many times encircled his body. Suddenly it parts! The boat of the captain, after he had darted his lance, was backed in time, and got clear from the whale’s attack, but the first mate was not so fortunate. The whale seemed to have singled him out as the victim of his revenge. Having in vain lashed at him with his flukes, he turned towards him with his head, rushing on with terrific force. He caught the boat as she was retreating, in an instant capsizing her, and sending all her crew struggling in the waves. I thought he would immediately have destroyed them; but he swam on, they happily escaping the blows of his flukes, and went head out across the ocean, followed by the first boat and the two others.Were they going to allow our shipmates to perish unaided? I thought and fully expected to hear the second mate order another boat to be lowered to go to their assistance. But they did not require any. Two of the men could not swim, but the others supported them till they got them up to the boat, from which they had been a little way separated, and then by pressing down the gunwale they quickly righted her. They then, holding on on either side, baled away till they could get into her, and still have her gunwale above water, when they very quickly freed her altogether. Everything had been secured in the boat, so that nothing was lost; and as soon as she was to right, off she started again in the chase.Away flew the captain’s boat, dragged on by the line, at the rate, it seemed, of full ten knots an hour. The other boats followed as fast as their crews could lay their backs to the oars; but for a long time they could gain nothing on him, but were fast falling astern. We had again filled, and were standing on. At last he began to slacken his pace. The loss of blood from his many wounds, and his evident exertions, were rapidly weakening him. Still, so far-off had he gone, that the captain’s boat was scarce to be seen, and the others were mere specks on the ocean.Once again, however, we were overtaking them. The captain was once more hauling in the slack—the other boats were getting up—the headsmen standing, harpoon in hand, ready to give the whale fresh and still more deadly wounds. They ranged up alongside, and harpoons and lances flew from the boats. The monster no longer threw up water alone, but blood was sent in a thick spout from his blow-hole, sprinkling the men in the boats, and staining the bright blue sea around. Still, in spite of all his foes, he struggled on bravely for life. Lashing the water, so as to drive his relentless assailants to a distance, he once more lifted his flukes and sounded; but they were prepared to let the lines run. Down he went again.“He’ll be lost—he’ll be lost!” I exclaimed, as did others not accustomed to the work.“Not a bit of it on that account,” said old Knowles. “He can’t remain long under water after what he’s gone through. He’ll be up again soon; and then stand by, my hearties, for his flurry!”Old Knowles was right. Up came the whale again, at a short distance only from where he had gone down, having dragged out from each boat not a hundred fathoms of line. Once more the boats approached, and fresh lances were darted into him; but they quickly had to retreat, for now his head went up, now his tail; now he sprung again right out of the water, twisting and turning in every direction.“He has his death-pang on him,” cried Old Knowles. “He’ll be ours before long;—but, ah! one of them has caught it!”One of the boats had indeed caught it. We could not tell which, for the others were covered with the foam and ensanguined water cast on every side by the monster in his wild contortions. The fragments lay floating, scattered far and wide, and several men were seen striking out towards the other boats, half-turning their heads, as if in expectation of being pursued. But, as we counted their number, they did not appear to be all there. There were but five. One, we feared, was missing. Anxiously we kept our eyes fixed on the spot, hoping to see our shipmate, whoever he might be, appear.“Hurrah!—he’s there—he’s there!” we shouted, as we discovered the sixth man swimming out from among the mass of bloody foam which surrounded the whale, who for an instant seemed to be resting from his exertions. While the boats were taking them on board, again the whale darted rapidly out, but this time it was to perform the segment of a circle.“He’s in his flurry, lads—he’s in his flurry!” shouted old Knowles. “He’ll be dead in another minute.”“Last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history,” said Newman, who through his glass had been eagerly watching the chase. As the words went out of his mouth the whale rolled over on his side, a well-won prize, and loud shouts from the crews of the boats and from all on deck rent the air.The fragments of the shattered boat being collected, and the three remaining ones made fast to the whale, they began towing it towards the ship, while we made sail to meet them.All hands were employed for an instant in congratulating each other when we got the whale alongside, and then every means were taken to secure it for “cutting-in”—so the operation of taking off the blubber is called. The coopers had meantime been getting ready the large caldrons for boiling the blubber; which operation is called “trying-out.” A rope passed round the windlass, and rove through a block fast to the head of the mainmast, was carried over the side, with a large hook at the end of it. The first thing done was to cut off the head of the whale, which, with the neck-part up, was strongly secured, and floated astern.“That head has got better than a ton of oil in it,” observed old Knowles, who was aiding the work. “It’s worth no end of money.”“Wears yet a precious jewel in his crown,” observed Newman, leaning eagerly over the side. “It’s fine work this, though.”A stage had been let down at the side of the vessel, on which those who had cut off the head were stationed. One of them now made a hole in the blubber with the instrument used for cutting-in, called a spade. A rope was then fastened round the waist of another man, and he descended on the body of the whale, taking the hook I have spoken of in his hand. This hook he fastened into the hole he had cut. The operation now began.Some with spades cut the blubber or fat mass which surrounds the body into a strip between two and three feet wide, in a spiral form, while others hoisted away on the tackle to which the hook was attached. Slowly the blanket-piece, thus cut off, ascended over the side, the body turning round and round as its coat or bandage, for so we may call it, was unwound. By the side of the pots werehorses—blocks of wood—on which the blubber was cut up. As the long strip was drawn up, another hook was secured lower down, and the upper part of the blanket-piece was cut off and chopped into thin pieces on the blocks. The pieces were then thrown into big pots, under which fires were kindled. After the first caldrons-full had been boiled, the lumps of blubber from which the oil had been extracted were taken out, and served as fuel to continue our fires. In reality, the whole operation was performed in a very cleanly and orderly way; but a stranger at a distance would scarcely think so.Night overtook us while we were engaged in the work, and watch and watch we continued it, lest a gale might spring up and compel us to abandon our prize before it was all secured. No scene could be wilder or more unearthly than that presented during the night by the whaler’s decks. The lurid fires surrounding the seething caldrons cast a red glare on all around—on the masts and rigging of the ship, enveloped in the dense wreaths of smoke which ascended from them—on the sturdy forms of the seamen, with their muscular arms bared to the shoulder. Some were cutting off huge blanket-pieces; others chopping them small on the horses; others throwing them into the pots, or with long poles stirring the boiling fluid, or raking out the scraps, as the refuse is called, to feed the flames; while others, again, were drawing off the oil into the casks ready to receive it, and stowing them away in the hold.The whole of the following day and the following night found us employed in a similar manner. At last the whole carcass was stripped to the very flukes of every particle of blubber, and, to our no little satisfaction, cast loose to float away, and to become a feast for the fish of the sea and the birds of the air. The head, full of the valuable spermaceti, was now floated alongside. A bucket was then forced down through the neck; by means of a long pole, into the case, till, by repeated dips, it was entirely emptied of its contents; and, as Knowles predicted, the case was found to contain even more than a ton of oil. The spermaceti was carefully boiled by itself—an operation necessary to preserve it. The blubber surrounding the head was also taken off and boiled down, and the empty skull was then cast loose, and sunk, by its own weight, with rapidity to the bottom—there, perhaps, to form the caverned abode of some marine monster never yet seen by human eye. It took us nearly three days to cut-in, try-out, and stow away that huge whale, the produce altogether being no less than eighty-five barrels! We broke forth into loud shouts when our work was accomplished and our first fish stowed away.I have no great sympathy with those who talk of the cruelty of the work. A whale feels acutely, no doubt, and so does a mouse or a sparrow, when wounded; but not having huge bodies to twist and turn about in their agony, they do not appear to suffer so much as does the mighty monarch of the deep. I suspect that the amount of pain felt by the small animal is equally great with that felt by the large one. However, I would make my argument a plea for merciful treatment of all alike, and urge that pain should never be unnecessarily inflicted on even the smallest of created beings in whose nostrils is the breath of life.Our success put us all in spirits, and we were ready to do or to dare anything. Our captain had heard that sperm whales were to be found in the icy seas towards the Antarctic Pole, and, accordingly, before keeping across to New Zealand and the isles of the Indian Ocean, he resolved to take a cruise to the south for a few weeks in order to try our fortune. Over the seas on which we were sailing it was necessary, both night and day, to keep a very sharp look-out; not only for whales, but to avoid the dangers of coral-reefs, and islands of all sizes, which in many parts sprinkle it so thickly.“Land ahead!” was shouted from the foretopmast-head one forenoon, as we were slowly gliding over the blue surface of the deep. As we got up with it, we saw that it was a long, low, almost barren island, a few trees only in the higher parts retrieving it from actual sterility. It was a wild, desolate, melancholy-looking spot, such as would make a man shudder at the very thought of being wrecked on it. At one end, inside a reef over which the surf was breaking violently, lay a dark object. As the officers were inspecting it through their glasses, they pronounced it to be a wreck. There could be no doubt about it, and Captain Carr resolved at once to visit the spot, to discover whether any of the crew still remained alive.As we stood on, a loud sound of roaring and yelping reached our ears, and we saw on many of the rocks which surrounded the island a vast number of seals, of the sort called “sea-lions.” Newman and several of us were eager to get in among them, to knock some of them on the head, that we might make ourselves caps and jackets for our cruise in the icy seas. The captain was equally anxious to get some seal-skins, and he told us that, after we had visited the wreck, and explored the island, we should try and catch some of the animals.Seals are curious-looking creatures. The head, with its large mild eyes, and snout, and whiskers, looks like that of some good-natured, intelligent dog; and one expects, as they are swimming, to see four legs and a thin curly tail come out of the water. Instead of that, the body narrows away till there is seen a tail like that of a fish. The hind-feet are like those of a duck when in the water, and the front ones have, beyond the skin, only a flapper or paw with claws, at the end of it. They are covered with thick, glossy hair, closely set against the skin. The form of their jaws and teeth proves that they are carnivorous, and they are known to live on fish, crabs, and sea-birds. The birds they catch in the water, as they can swim with great rapidity and ease. They can remain also for a considerable time under the water, without coming to the surface to breathe.The sea-lion, which was the species of seal we were hoping to attack, grows to the length of ten feet. The colour is of a yellowish-brown, and the males have a large mane, which covers their neck and shoulders, so that they have very much the appearance of lions when their upper part alone is seen above the water. Such were the monsters which seemed to be guarding the island towards which we were pulling, their roar vying in loudness with the hoarse sound of the surf as it beat on the rock-bound shore.Newman and I were in the captain’s boat. As we pulled in for the land, we saw that the surf rolled up on every side, and for some time we could not discover a clear spot through which we might urge the boats. We continued pulling on for half a mile or more, and caught sight of what appeared to be a channel between the reefs. The captain ordered us to give way, and bending to our oars, we pulled on with a will. A sailor loves a run on shore, even though that shore may be but a barren sand; but here we had two objects to excite our interest. The deserted wreck claimed our first attention. It was easy to see how she had got into her present position. An unusually high-tide and heavy gale must have lifted her over the reef, and driven her on shore; and the wind falling before she had time to go to pieces, must have left her comparatively safe from further injury. The captain stood up in his boat to watch for an opportunity to enter the passage.“Now, again, my lads, give way!” he shouted. The boat lifted on the summit of a roller, and rushing on with the dark rocks and hissing foam on either side of us, in another instant we found ourselves calmly floating in a reef-surrounded lagoon or bay. We had to pull back for some distance to get to the wreck, and as we advanced, we looked along the shore to discover, if we could, traces of any of the crew. All, however, was silent and desolate.From the appearance of the island, Newman observed that he thought it must be the crater of an extinct volcano, and that even the lapse of ages had allowed scarcely soil enough to collect on it, to permit of more than the scanty vegetation which was visible.As we approached the wreck, we found that she had gone stem on into the mouth of a little creek, and there had been held fast by two rocks. Her build at once made us suspect that she was a whaler like ourselves. All her boats and bulwarks were gone, and her stern was much stove in. Her main and mizzen-masts had been carried away, so had her foretopmast and the head of the foremast below the top, the stump only remaining. On this a yard still hung across, and the tattered fragment of a sail, showing us that she had run stem on into her present position. As her stern could be approached by water which was quite smooth, we ran the boats under it, and climbed on board. The sea had made a clean breach through the stern, and inundated the cabin, which presented a scene of ruin and desolation. The bulkheads had been knocked away; the contents of the sideboard, and sleeping-places, and lockers, all lay scattered about, shattered into fragments, in the wildest confusion, among sand, and slimy sea-weed, and shells, which thickly coated the whole of the lower part of the cabin; while the hold itself, between which and the cabin all the partitions had been knocked away, was full of water. No living being remained on board to tell us how the catastrophe had occurred. On going forward, we found that the rocks between which she was jammed were separated from the shore, and that without a boat it would have been difficult to get aboard. After the captain had examined the wreck, he gave it as his opinion that she had been there three or four years, if not longer. One thing appeared certain, that she could not have got where she was without people on board to steer her; and then the question arose, what had become of them?If any of them were still alive on the shore, they must long ago have seen the ship, and would have been waiting to receive us. The captain thought that they might have possibly been taken off by another ship soon after the wreck; still he resolved not to return without having searched thoroughly for them. We pulled round astern of the wreck, and there, in a sort of natural dock, found an easy landing-place.As we walked across the island, we found that some of the lower spots, the dells and valleys, produced a greater amount of vegetation than had appeared at a distance; but could not retrieve the character of desolation given by the black, barren hills, and dark abrupt cliffs which arose on every side. We had given up all expectation of finding anyone alive, or any signs of the spot ever having been inhabited, when we heard a cry from Newman, who had wandered a little on one side.We found him standing on a green hillock, raised a little above the valley, whence on one side a wide view over the blue sparkling sea could be obtained, with some shrubs of semi-tropical luxuriance, and the bright yellow sands forming the foreground, while behind arose the dark frowning cliffs and hills I have described. On the top of the hillock were four mounds, side by side, and at one end of each was seen a rough, flat piece of wood, a rude substitute for a grave-stone. There were names on them of Englishmen, and dates showing that they had died at intervals of a month or two from one another.Where were the survivors?—who had buried these men? was now the question. A group of cocoa-nut trees, all that were on the island, marked the spot. It was one selected with much taste. The discovery induced us to persevere in our search. We wandered on for another hour, turning in every direction; for so full of undulations was the island, that we might easily have passed the very spot we were in search of. At last we were again called together by a shout from Newman.We found him standing before a rude hut erected in front of a cave, which formed, indeed, a back apartment to it. There was only one rough bed-place on one side of it, though there were several stools, and a table in the centre. A seaman’s chest stood open, and contained a few articles of clothing. There were two muskets, and some powder-flasks hung up against the wall; but there was no food, although an iron pot and a saucepan, with a place where a fire had been made, showed that provisions had at one time been cooked there. On a shelf there were several books, both in English and in foreign languages, and above them was a flute with a music-book. A few carpenter’s tools were arranged on another shelf. Several things showed that the place had last been inhabited by a person of superior education. On opening the books, a name was found in several of them. It was that of William Evans. Two of them Newman discovered to be on medical subjects, which of course made us conjecture that they had belonged to the surgeon of the ship. The decayed state of the books showed that it was long since they had been opened, and on a further examination of the hut, it also was found to be in a very dilapidated condition. From the number of things left in the hut, Captain Carr surmised that the last occupants must have left the place very suddenly, if, indeed, they had left it at all. One thing was certain, that we were not likely to find any of them on the island.We were, therefore, on our return to the boats, when I saw the figure of a man sitting, with his back to a rock, on a gentle slope, whence a view could be obtained of the blue ocean. I had separated a little from my companions. I called to him, and I thought I heard him answer, “Halloa, who calls?” His face was turned away from me, and he did not move. I called again, and at that moment Newman broke through the brushwood, and joined me. Together we climbed the hill, both equally surprised that the man we saw did not get up to meet us. In another minute we were by his side. The straw-hat, stained and in tatters, covered a skull; the clothes, decayed and discoloured, hung loosely on a fleshless skeleton. A book was by his side. It was a copy of a Latin poet—Horace, Newman told me. Before him was another book of manuscript; and, as we looked about, we picked up the remains of pencil, which had dropped from the dead man’s fingers. Newman opened the manuscript, and though it was rotten, and the characters much defaced, he could still decipher them. He glanced his eye rapidly over them.“Ah! poor fellow, his appears to have been a sad fate,” he remarked, with a voice full of sadness. “Compelled by a strong necessity to leave England—to wrench asunder all the ties which held him there, and embark on board a South-sea-man as surgeon—he seems to have had a hard life of it with a drunken, brutal captain, and ignorant—not a human being with whom he could sympathise. Unable to return home, after three years’ service he exchanged into another ship. His master and officers, with all the boats, were away in chase of whales, which had appeared about them in great numbers, when a gale arose. The crew, already too much weakened by that scourge of the ocean, the scurvy, and the loss of several men, were unable to shorten sail. The boats were far out of sight, as they believed, to windward. In vain they endeavoured to beat up to them. The main and mizzen-masts went by the board; and the gale still further increasing, they were compelled to run before it, without a prospect of picking up their shipmates in the boats.“Away they drove for several days before the wind, till one night all who were below were thrown out of their berths by a violent concussion. Again and again the ship struck—the sea beat in her stern. They rushed on deck. It was to find nearly all those who had been there washed away. The next instant, the ship again lifting, was carried into smooth water, and finally jammed fast in the position we had found her.“Five only of all the crew then survived, and they were the most sickly. The writer was himself suffering from illness; happily, however, he bore up against it. They collected all the provisions, and all articles likely to be useful, which the sea had not destroyed, and carried them on shore, which they easily reached by means of a raft.“They had food enough to last them for some time; but they had but a scanty supply of water. In vain they searched through the island—no springs were to be found. With great labour they got up all the casks of water still uninjured from the hold, and resolved to husband the contents. They formed themselves a habitation. They made reservoirs in which to catch the rain when it fell; but, in those latitudes, for many weeks together no rain falls. For a time, with their fire-arms, they killed a few birds; but their ammunition failed them, and they could kill no more. Their water was at last expended, and for many weeks together the only moisture they could obtain was by chewing the leaves of the shrubs and grass they found. They continued, as at first, very weak. They talked of building a boat from the wreck, but had neither strength nor knowledge among them sufficient for the undertaking.“At last their spirits gave way, and disease made fearful progress with them all. One by one they died, and the survivors buried them. The writer of the sad journal was alone left.” Alas! not a word did he say about seeking consolation where alone it can be given—not a thought about another world and judgment to come. The writer seemed to pride himself on his heathen stoicism—heathen expressions of resignation were alone mentioned. His dying eyes had rested on the pages of Horace—his dying thoughts, were they heavenward?“In vain had he crawled to the spot where we found him, day after day, in the faint hopes of seeing a ship to bear him away. Three long years had thus passed, and all the food that had been brought on shore had been consumed; and he had not strength to search for more, so he came up there and sat himself down, and his spirit passed away.”Mr Newman had read this rapid sketch of the last events in the life of this unhappy exile before the captain came up, when he handed him the journal. The captain desired Newman to keep the “Horace,” observing that he could not himself understand the contents.We had found some tools in the hut, with which we dug a shallow grave close to where we had found these sad remains of mortality, and in it we placed them. On the rock above we cut the name of William Evans, and the date of the day on which we found him dead. Loading ourselves with the articles found in the hut, Newman being allowed to take most of the books as his share, we returned to the boats.Although a longer time had been spent on shore than the captain intended, he allowed us to endeavour to capture some of the sea-lions. After pulling, however, some way along the lagoon, we discovered that they could not be approached from the land-side, as they had taken up their quarters on some high rocks, almost islands by themselves, in advance of the reefs. We were, therefore, compelled to pass into the open sea before attacking them—the passage by which we entered; and, waiting an opportunity, we dashed through in safety.As we approached the largest rock, it was curious to watch the hundreds, or, I may say, thousands of fierce-looking monsters which covered its slippery surface. It would have required bold men, not acquainted with their habits, to attack them, as they looked down upon us from their seemingly unapproachable fortress. On one side, the surf broke far too fiercely to allow the boats to venture near; but on the other, although there was a good deal of surf, Captain Carr told us we might land. The only way, however, to get on shore was to pull in on the summit of a breaker; and while those in the bow leaped out on the rock, the rest of the crew had to pull back the boat again with all their force into smooth water. We were armed for the attack with two or three harpoons, a lance, and the boat’s stretchers.“Stand by, my lads—now’s the time!” shouted our captain, as the two boats rolled in towards the shore. He led the way, lance in hand; Newman and I and old Knowles following from his boat. Our sudden appearance on the confines of their fortress evidently not a little astonished the sea-lions. Opening wide their jaws, and gnashing with their formidable tusks, they glanced at us from the heights above, and then, with reiterated and terrific roars, began to descend with impetuous force, as if with their overwhelming numbers to drive us into the sea. An old sea-lion led the van—a fierce monster, who looked capable of competing with all of us together. So he might, if he had possessed legs instead of fins or flappers, the latter only enabling him to twist and turn and slide down the inclined plane on which we stood into the sea. On the beasts came in dense masses, roaring and snarling. I certainly did look for a moment at the boats, and wish myself safe back again in them; but it was only for a moment, for our antagonists demanded all our strength and agility to compete with them. Our captain advanced boldly towards the old leader, and as he came right at him, plunged his lance into his side. It had not the effect of stopping the beast in his career; but, instead, very nearly carried him and the lance into the water. Old Knowles was, I thought, very inadequately armed only with a thick stick, which he always carried on shore with him, curiously cut and carved, and fastened to his wrist by a lanyard.“Let me alone,” said he; “Old Trusty is better in a scrimmage, whether with man or beast, than all your fire-arms and steel weapons. He always goes off, and never gets blunt.”Newman and I were armed with harpoons. Newman, following the captain’s example, plunged his harpoon into the side of a seal, just as the beast, with the greatest impetus, was sliding down the rock. In attempting to stop its way, his foot slipped, and with the line coiled round his arm, before any of us could go to his assistance, he was dragged off into the boiling waters. He was a first-rate swimmer, but with so huge a sea-monster attached to him, how could he hope to escape. The rock sloped in a different direction to where the boats were, so that they could render him no assistance. I thought of the scene we had just witnessed—the unhappy exile dying alone on the desert island—and I dreaded a similar fate for my friend. With a cry of dismay we looked towards the drowning man. He disappeared among the foaming breakers.Still, but with little hope, we watched the spot. Yes—there was his head! He was swimming free! Bravely he mounted the crest of a roller; it rushed in for the rock; but before he could find his footing, or we could stretch out our arms to help him, he was carried off again among the foaming waves. Meantime old Knowles had climbed up the rock in the face of the sea-lions, whom he was knocking on the head right and left with his club, and signalled the boats to pull round to Newman’s assistance. Still, however, with only a couple of hands in each, it would take, I saw, a considerable time before they could reach him, and I resolved to make one attempt to save his life, at the risk, though it might be, of my own. Sticking my harpoon in a crevice of the rock which my eye at that instant fell on, I seized the end of the line, and in spite of the sea-lions, which kept rushing past me, I struck out into the surf as I saw Newman once more approaching. Happily I grasped him by the collar as the sea was once more heaving him back, and the captain and other shipmates coming to our assistance, we were hauled safely up the rocks.There was not now a moment to be lost if we would capture any seals. Although many had escaped, still a good number remained near; and following the example set by old Knowles, we began laying about us on every side most lustily with our weapons, bestowing heavy blows on the heads of the frightened beasts. One blow was generally sufficient to stun, if not to kill them outright, and we then quickly despatched them with our knives. “On, my lads, on!” cried the captain; and up the rocky steep we went, meeting the maddened inhabitants as they came floundering down upon us. We had literally often to climb over the fallen bodies of the slain. Sometimes one of our party would miss his footing, and he and half-a-dozen seals would go sliding away down the rock, the beasts biting at him, and he struggling to get free, and in no small terror of being carried away into the surf. Such would inevitably have been the lot of more than one of us had not we all kept a watch to help each other out of such difficulties.Our captain’s combat with the old lion was the most severe. As the captain, unwilling to lose his lance or the beast, holding on to the former, was dragged downwards, they reached a ledge of rock which sloped in an opposite direction to the surrounding parts, and thus formed a table on which they could rest. Here the monster, finding that he could not escape from his opponent, turned bravely to bay, and grinning with his large, strong teeth, made fiercely at him. The captain held on pertinaciously to the handle of the spear, springing actively out of the way of the beast’s mouth, as in its contortions and struggles it approached him too nearly. The lion roared, and snarled, and struggled, and the captain held on bravely, but I believe would soon have had to let go had not old Knowles, springing down the rock, given the animal a blow on the head with his stick, which effectually settled him.There were many other single combats, and more of one man against half-a-dozen beasts; but the result was that we came off victorious without the loss of anyone, while we could boast of having killed upwards of sixty seals. Our next work was to flay them. This, in the hands of experienced operators, was soon performed, and in a short time we had sufficient skins ready to load our boats, and to make caps and jackets for all hands, besides what were required for the ship’s use. The boats now came back to the spot where we were to embark, and by carefully waiting our time, we leaped on board with no other damage than wet jackets.“Williams,” said Newman, as we were pulling on shore, “you have nobly preserved my life at the risk of your own. I trust that I may be grateful.”

Away, away the good ship flew to round the far-famed Cape Horn. Stern and majestic it rose on our starboard-hand; its hoary front, as it looked down on the meeting of two mighty oceans, bore traces of many a terrific storm. Now all was calm and bright, though the vast undulations of the ocean over which the ship rode, as they met the resistance of the cliffs, were dashed in cataracts of spray high up in the air, and gave evidence of what would be the effect when a storm was raging across them. There was something more grand in the contemplation than in the actual appearance of the scene, when we reflected where we were—on the confines of those two great seas which encompass the earth, and which wash the shores of nations so different in character—the one having attained the height of civilisation, the other being still sunk in the depths of a barbarism too terrible almost for contemplation, as I afterwards had good reason to know. Then there was that strange, vast, dreamy swell—the breathings, as it were, of some giant monster. It seemed as if some wondrous force were ever acting on that vast body of water—that it could not for a moment rest quiet in its bed, but must ever go heaving on, in calm and sunshine as well as in storm and tempest. There was likewise in sight that wild weather-beaten shore, inhabited, as report declared, by men of gigantic stature and untameable fierceness; while to the south lay those mysterious frost-bound regions untrod by the foot of man—the land of vast glaciers, mighty icebergs, and wide extended fields of ice. On we sped with a favouring breeze, till we floated calmly on the smooth surface of the Pacific off the coast of Chili.

With regard to Patagonia, old Knowles told me he had been there, but that, as far as he saw, the people were not much larger than the inhabitants of many other countries. Some were big men; a few nearly seven feet high, and proportionably stout. They are capital mimics—the very parrots or magpies of the genus Man.

“I say, Jack, bear a hand there now,” exclaimed one, repeating the words after a sailor who had just spoken.

“What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,” said Knowles, thinking he had found a civilised man in that distant region.

“What! do you speak English, old fellow? Give us your flipper then,” repeated the savage with a grin, putting out his hand.

“I should think I did! What other lingo am I likely to speak?” answered Knowles, shaking the Patagonian’s huge paw.

“What other lingo am I likely to speak?” said the savage, with perfect clearness.

“Why, I should have thought your own native Patagonian, if you are a Patagonian,” exclaimed Knowles, examining the savage’s not over-handsome physiognomy.

“If you are a Patagonian!” said the savage, looking in like manner into Knowles’ face.

“I—I’m an Englishman, I tell you!” cried Tom, somewhat puzzled.

“I’m an Englishman, I tell you!” cried the Patagonian in the same indignant tone.

“That’s just what I want to arrive at,” said Tom. “So now just tell me where we can get some good baccy and a glass of honest grog.”

The Patagonian repeated the words.

“But I ask you!” said Tom.

“But I ask you!” said the savage.

“I tell you I’m a stranger here!” exclaimed Tom.

“I tell you I’m a stranger here!” cried the savage.

“Where do you come from then?” asked Tom.

“Where do you come from then?” repeated the savage.

“I tell you I’m an Englishman,” cried Knowles, getting angry.

“I tell you I’m an Englishman!” exclaimed the Patagonian in the same indignant tones.

“That’s more than I’ll believe; and, to speak my mind plainly, I believe that you are an arrant, bamboozling hum-bug!” cried Tom. “No offence, though. You understand me?”

Whether it was Tom’s expression of countenance, or the tone of his voice, I know not, but as he uttered these words, all the savages burst into loud fits of merry laughter; and as he thought they were laughing at him, he said that he should have liked to have gone in among them, and knocked them down right and left with his fists; but they were such precious big fellows, that he thought he should have got the worst of it in the scrimmage.

He used with infinite gusto frequently to tell the story for our amusement.

I am not quite certain, however, whether he was describing the Patagonians or the inhabitants of Terra del Fuego. The latter are very great mimics and are much smaller in size, less clothed, and more savage in appearance than the Patagonians.

We touched at Valparaiso, in Chili, or, as it may be called, the Vale of Paradise. It is certainly by nature a very beautiful and healthy spot, built on a number of high hills with ravines intervening; but man, by his evil practices and crimes, made it, when I was there, much more like the Vale of Pandemonium. Drunkenness and all sorts of crimes were common, and thecuchillo—the long knife—was in constant requisition among the Spaniards, scarcely a night passing without one or more murders being committed. It was then little more than a village, but has now become quite a large town, with a number of English and American merchants settled there. The houses are built with very thick walls, to withstand the constant attacks of earthquakes which they have to undergo. Having supplied ourselves with fresh provisions and water, we sailed, and stretched away into the wide Pacific.

We had left the coast of Chili about a day’s sail astern. A light easterly breeze was just ruffling the blue sea—the noon-day sun shining brightly over it—the hands going listlessly about their work, rather out of spirits at our want of success, not a whale having hitherto been seen—when the cheery shout of the first mate reached our ears from the look-out, of “There she spouts! there she spouts, boys!”

In an instant every one was aroused into the fullest activity—the watch below sprung on deck—Captain Carr hurried from his cabin, and with his hand to his mouth, shouted eagerly, “Where away?—where away?”

“About a mile on the starboard-bow,” cried Mr Benson, the first mate, in return.

“Lower the boats, my lads!” exclaimed the captain, preparing to go in the leading one himself; the first and third mate and the boatswain went in command of the others. Both Newman and I, as new hands, remained on board, as did the second mate, to take charge of the ship.

Before the boats were in the water, the whale had ceased spouting; but just as they were shoving off, the look-out broke forth in a cheerful chorus, “There again—there again—there again!” the signal that the whale was once more sending up its spout of spray into the air. The words were taken up by all on deck, while we pointed with excited looks at the whale, whose vast head and hump could be clearly distinguished as he swam, unsuspicious of evil, through the calm waters of the deep. Away flew the boats, urged on by rapid strokes, in hot pursuit. The captain took the lead. We who were left behind felt that we were accompanying them in heart and spirit. The foam bubbled and hissed round the bows of the boats as they clove their way through the water. Not a moment was there to lose—the distance was great—the whale had been for some time breathing, and might go down, and perhaps be lost altogether, before the boats could get up to her, or they might have to chase her for many miles before they could again reach her. Meantime, the wind being fair, the ship was kept almost in the wake of the boats. Away they flew; each was anxious to strike the first whale, but the captain’s took the lead, and maintained it. As they got nearer the monster, it was necessary to be careful, lest he should take the alarm, and, seeing his pursuers, go down to escape them. The men bent to their oars even more energetically than before; the captain stood up, harpoon in hand; his weapon was raised on high; we thought that the next instant it would be buried in the monster, when up went his small—the enormous flukes rose high in air—“Back of all!—back of all!” we cried; not that our voices could be heard. If not, that terrific stroke it is giving will shiver the boat in atoms. The boat glided out of the way, but just in time, though her crew were drenched with spray. Down went the whale—far, far into the depths of the ocean.

Nothing is to be had without trying for it—our captain knew this well. All eyes were now turned to watch where the whale would next rise, for rise, we knew, he before long must, and in all probability within sight; so the boats paddled slowly on, the men reserving their strength for the moment when it would be required; while we on board shortened sail, that we might have the ship more under command, to follow wherever they might lead. Every one was watching with intense eagerness; the four boats were separated a short distance from each other; now and then the officers would stand up to see if the monster had risen, and then they would turn their gaze towards the ship for a signal from the look-out aboard. Still the time passed away, and no whale appeared.

An hour had elapsed, when again the inspiriting shout was heard of “There she spouts! there she spouts!” the look-outs pointing, as before, over the starboard-bow, where the whale had again risen, not much more than a mile away from the boats. Again they were in rapid movement. We doubted not that this time they would reach the monster. Through our glasses we made him out to be a bull—an old greyhead, and probably a cunning fellow, one likely to try every dodge which a whale can think of to escape, and if failing to do that, and hard pressed, one who was likely to turn on his pursuers, and attack them with his open jaws or mighty flukes.

“Well, whatever freak he takes, our captain is the man to meet him,” observed old Tom Knowles—a long-experienced hand in the South-Seas, but who, having hurt his arm, was unable to go in the boats. “As long as daylight lasts, he’ll not give up the chase.”

I had thought that when a whale was seen, it was merely necessary to pull after him, dig the harpoons into him, and allow him to drag the boats along till he died; but I found it was often a far more difficult task than this to kill a whale.

“There again—there again!” shouted the look-outs from aloft; and the cry was repeated by all on deck, while the whale continued spouting. Fast as at first, if not faster, the boats flew after him—the captain’s again leading.

“This time we’ll have him, surely,” exclaimed Newman, who was as eager as any of us.

“Not quite so sure of that, Ned,” observed old Knowles. “I’ve seen one of these old chaps go down half-a-dozen times before a harpoon was struck in him, and, after all, with three or four in his side, break away, and carry them off just as the sun was setting, and there was no chance of getting another sight of him. I say, never be certain that you’ve got him, till he’s safe in the casks. I’ve seen one, after he has been killed, go down like a shot, for no reason that anyone on board could tell, except to spite us for having caught him.”

While old Tom was speaking, the boats had approached close to the whale. For my own part, after what I had heard, I fully expected to see him lift his flukes, and go down as he had done before. The captain’s boat was up to him—the rest hung back, not to run the risk of alarming the wary monster. The captain stood up in the bows—a fine bold figure he looked, as he poised his glittering harpoon in his right hand, high above his head. “There!—peak your oars,” cried old Tom, as the crew raised them with a flourish to a perpendicular position, having given the boat sufficient impetus to take her alongside the whale. Off flew the weapon, impelled by the captain’s unerring arm, and buried itself up to the socket in the fat coating with which the leviathan was clothed.

“It’s socket up!” cried old Knowles. “Hurrah, lads—hurrah! our first whale’s struck—good-luck, good-luck—hurrah, hurrah!” The cheer was taken up by all on board, as well as by those in the boats. They now gave way with a will after the whale; the harpooner, as another boat got up, sending his weapon into its side.

But it is no child’s play now. The captain had time to dart a lance into him, when, “Stern all—stern all!” was now the cry of the headsman; and the crews, with their utmost strength, backed the boats out of the way of the infuriated animal, which in his agony began to lash the water with his huge flukes, and strike out in every direction with a force which would have shattered to atoms any boat they met. Now his vast head rose completely out of the water—now his tail, as he writhed with the pain the weapons had inflicted. The whole surface of the surrounding ocean was lashed into foam by the reiterated strokes of those mighty flukes, while the boats were deluged with the spray he threw aloft—the sound of the blows reverberating far away across the water. The boat-steerer now stood ready to let the lines run through the loggerhead over the bows of the boat. Should anyone be seized by their coils as they are running out, his death would be certain. Soon finding the hopelessness of contending with his enemies above water, the whale lifted his flukes and sounded.

Down, down he went into the depths of the ocean. Away flew the line over the bows of the boat. Its rapid motion would have set fire to the wood, had not the headsman kept pouring water over it, as it passed through its groove.

An oar was held up from the captain’s boat: it was a sign that nearly the whole of their line, of two hundred fathoms, had run out. With caution, and yet rapidity, the first mate in the second boat bent on his line; soon the captain’s came to an end, and then that flew out as rapidly as the first had done. To assist in stopping the whale’s downward course, drogues were now bent on to the line as it ran out; but they appeared to have little more effect in impeding his progress than a log-ship has in stopping the way of a vessel; and yet they have, in reality, much more, as every pound-weight in addition tells on the back of a racer.

Again an oar went up, and the third boat bent on, adding more drogues to stop his way. They at length appeared to have effect. “There; haul in the slack,” cried old Tom. “He’s rising, lads; he’s rising!”

The boat-steerer was seen in the last boat busily coiling away the line in the tub as he hauled it in. When he had got all his line, that belonging to the next boat was in like manner coiled away; then the captain’s line was hauled in.

Thick bubbles now rose in rapid succession to the surface, followed by a commotion of the water, and the huge head of the monster rushed suddenly upward, sending forth a dense spout on high. The captain’s boat was now hauled gently on, the boat-steerer guiding it close up to the fin of the wounded whale. Again Captain Carr stood up with his long lance in hand, and plunged it, as few on board could have done, deep into his side. At the same moment the rest of the boats pulled up on the opposite side, the harpooner in the leading one striking his harpoon into him. Again the cry arose of “Stern all—stern all!” It was time, indeed, to get out of the way, for the whale seemed to feel that he was engaged in his last struggles for freedom and for life. He threw himself with all his monstrous bulk completely out of the water, in a vain attempt to get loose from his foes. Off from him all the boats backed.

He now became the assailant. He rushed at them with his head and lower jaw let drop, seemingly capable of devouring one of them entire. I almost thought he would; but he was already fatigued with his wounds and previous exertions. The line, too, of the mate’s boat had many times encircled his body. Suddenly it parts! The boat of the captain, after he had darted his lance, was backed in time, and got clear from the whale’s attack, but the first mate was not so fortunate. The whale seemed to have singled him out as the victim of his revenge. Having in vain lashed at him with his flukes, he turned towards him with his head, rushing on with terrific force. He caught the boat as she was retreating, in an instant capsizing her, and sending all her crew struggling in the waves. I thought he would immediately have destroyed them; but he swam on, they happily escaping the blows of his flukes, and went head out across the ocean, followed by the first boat and the two others.

Were they going to allow our shipmates to perish unaided? I thought and fully expected to hear the second mate order another boat to be lowered to go to their assistance. But they did not require any. Two of the men could not swim, but the others supported them till they got them up to the boat, from which they had been a little way separated, and then by pressing down the gunwale they quickly righted her. They then, holding on on either side, baled away till they could get into her, and still have her gunwale above water, when they very quickly freed her altogether. Everything had been secured in the boat, so that nothing was lost; and as soon as she was to right, off she started again in the chase.

Away flew the captain’s boat, dragged on by the line, at the rate, it seemed, of full ten knots an hour. The other boats followed as fast as their crews could lay their backs to the oars; but for a long time they could gain nothing on him, but were fast falling astern. We had again filled, and were standing on. At last he began to slacken his pace. The loss of blood from his many wounds, and his evident exertions, were rapidly weakening him. Still, so far-off had he gone, that the captain’s boat was scarce to be seen, and the others were mere specks on the ocean.

Once again, however, we were overtaking them. The captain was once more hauling in the slack—the other boats were getting up—the headsmen standing, harpoon in hand, ready to give the whale fresh and still more deadly wounds. They ranged up alongside, and harpoons and lances flew from the boats. The monster no longer threw up water alone, but blood was sent in a thick spout from his blow-hole, sprinkling the men in the boats, and staining the bright blue sea around. Still, in spite of all his foes, he struggled on bravely for life. Lashing the water, so as to drive his relentless assailants to a distance, he once more lifted his flukes and sounded; but they were prepared to let the lines run. Down he went again.

“He’ll be lost—he’ll be lost!” I exclaimed, as did others not accustomed to the work.

“Not a bit of it on that account,” said old Knowles. “He can’t remain long under water after what he’s gone through. He’ll be up again soon; and then stand by, my hearties, for his flurry!”

Old Knowles was right. Up came the whale again, at a short distance only from where he had gone down, having dragged out from each boat not a hundred fathoms of line. Once more the boats approached, and fresh lances were darted into him; but they quickly had to retreat, for now his head went up, now his tail; now he sprung again right out of the water, twisting and turning in every direction.

“He has his death-pang on him,” cried Old Knowles. “He’ll be ours before long;—but, ah! one of them has caught it!”

One of the boats had indeed caught it. We could not tell which, for the others were covered with the foam and ensanguined water cast on every side by the monster in his wild contortions. The fragments lay floating, scattered far and wide, and several men were seen striking out towards the other boats, half-turning their heads, as if in expectation of being pursued. But, as we counted their number, they did not appear to be all there. There were but five. One, we feared, was missing. Anxiously we kept our eyes fixed on the spot, hoping to see our shipmate, whoever he might be, appear.

“Hurrah!—he’s there—he’s there!” we shouted, as we discovered the sixth man swimming out from among the mass of bloody foam which surrounded the whale, who for an instant seemed to be resting from his exertions. While the boats were taking them on board, again the whale darted rapidly out, but this time it was to perform the segment of a circle.

“He’s in his flurry, lads—he’s in his flurry!” shouted old Knowles. “He’ll be dead in another minute.”

“Last scene of all, which ends this strange, eventful history,” said Newman, who through his glass had been eagerly watching the chase. As the words went out of his mouth the whale rolled over on his side, a well-won prize, and loud shouts from the crews of the boats and from all on deck rent the air.

The fragments of the shattered boat being collected, and the three remaining ones made fast to the whale, they began towing it towards the ship, while we made sail to meet them.

All hands were employed for an instant in congratulating each other when we got the whale alongside, and then every means were taken to secure it for “cutting-in”—so the operation of taking off the blubber is called. The coopers had meantime been getting ready the large caldrons for boiling the blubber; which operation is called “trying-out.” A rope passed round the windlass, and rove through a block fast to the head of the mainmast, was carried over the side, with a large hook at the end of it. The first thing done was to cut off the head of the whale, which, with the neck-part up, was strongly secured, and floated astern.

“That head has got better than a ton of oil in it,” observed old Knowles, who was aiding the work. “It’s worth no end of money.”

“Wears yet a precious jewel in his crown,” observed Newman, leaning eagerly over the side. “It’s fine work this, though.”

A stage had been let down at the side of the vessel, on which those who had cut off the head were stationed. One of them now made a hole in the blubber with the instrument used for cutting-in, called a spade. A rope was then fastened round the waist of another man, and he descended on the body of the whale, taking the hook I have spoken of in his hand. This hook he fastened into the hole he had cut. The operation now began.

Some with spades cut the blubber or fat mass which surrounds the body into a strip between two and three feet wide, in a spiral form, while others hoisted away on the tackle to which the hook was attached. Slowly the blanket-piece, thus cut off, ascended over the side, the body turning round and round as its coat or bandage, for so we may call it, was unwound. By the side of the pots werehorses—blocks of wood—on which the blubber was cut up. As the long strip was drawn up, another hook was secured lower down, and the upper part of the blanket-piece was cut off and chopped into thin pieces on the blocks. The pieces were then thrown into big pots, under which fires were kindled. After the first caldrons-full had been boiled, the lumps of blubber from which the oil had been extracted were taken out, and served as fuel to continue our fires. In reality, the whole operation was performed in a very cleanly and orderly way; but a stranger at a distance would scarcely think so.

Night overtook us while we were engaged in the work, and watch and watch we continued it, lest a gale might spring up and compel us to abandon our prize before it was all secured. No scene could be wilder or more unearthly than that presented during the night by the whaler’s decks. The lurid fires surrounding the seething caldrons cast a red glare on all around—on the masts and rigging of the ship, enveloped in the dense wreaths of smoke which ascended from them—on the sturdy forms of the seamen, with their muscular arms bared to the shoulder. Some were cutting off huge blanket-pieces; others chopping them small on the horses; others throwing them into the pots, or with long poles stirring the boiling fluid, or raking out the scraps, as the refuse is called, to feed the flames; while others, again, were drawing off the oil into the casks ready to receive it, and stowing them away in the hold.

The whole of the following day and the following night found us employed in a similar manner. At last the whole carcass was stripped to the very flukes of every particle of blubber, and, to our no little satisfaction, cast loose to float away, and to become a feast for the fish of the sea and the birds of the air. The head, full of the valuable spermaceti, was now floated alongside. A bucket was then forced down through the neck; by means of a long pole, into the case, till, by repeated dips, it was entirely emptied of its contents; and, as Knowles predicted, the case was found to contain even more than a ton of oil. The spermaceti was carefully boiled by itself—an operation necessary to preserve it. The blubber surrounding the head was also taken off and boiled down, and the empty skull was then cast loose, and sunk, by its own weight, with rapidity to the bottom—there, perhaps, to form the caverned abode of some marine monster never yet seen by human eye. It took us nearly three days to cut-in, try-out, and stow away that huge whale, the produce altogether being no less than eighty-five barrels! We broke forth into loud shouts when our work was accomplished and our first fish stowed away.

I have no great sympathy with those who talk of the cruelty of the work. A whale feels acutely, no doubt, and so does a mouse or a sparrow, when wounded; but not having huge bodies to twist and turn about in their agony, they do not appear to suffer so much as does the mighty monarch of the deep. I suspect that the amount of pain felt by the small animal is equally great with that felt by the large one. However, I would make my argument a plea for merciful treatment of all alike, and urge that pain should never be unnecessarily inflicted on even the smallest of created beings in whose nostrils is the breath of life.

Our success put us all in spirits, and we were ready to do or to dare anything. Our captain had heard that sperm whales were to be found in the icy seas towards the Antarctic Pole, and, accordingly, before keeping across to New Zealand and the isles of the Indian Ocean, he resolved to take a cruise to the south for a few weeks in order to try our fortune. Over the seas on which we were sailing it was necessary, both night and day, to keep a very sharp look-out; not only for whales, but to avoid the dangers of coral-reefs, and islands of all sizes, which in many parts sprinkle it so thickly.

“Land ahead!” was shouted from the foretopmast-head one forenoon, as we were slowly gliding over the blue surface of the deep. As we got up with it, we saw that it was a long, low, almost barren island, a few trees only in the higher parts retrieving it from actual sterility. It was a wild, desolate, melancholy-looking spot, such as would make a man shudder at the very thought of being wrecked on it. At one end, inside a reef over which the surf was breaking violently, lay a dark object. As the officers were inspecting it through their glasses, they pronounced it to be a wreck. There could be no doubt about it, and Captain Carr resolved at once to visit the spot, to discover whether any of the crew still remained alive.

As we stood on, a loud sound of roaring and yelping reached our ears, and we saw on many of the rocks which surrounded the island a vast number of seals, of the sort called “sea-lions.” Newman and several of us were eager to get in among them, to knock some of them on the head, that we might make ourselves caps and jackets for our cruise in the icy seas. The captain was equally anxious to get some seal-skins, and he told us that, after we had visited the wreck, and explored the island, we should try and catch some of the animals.

Seals are curious-looking creatures. The head, with its large mild eyes, and snout, and whiskers, looks like that of some good-natured, intelligent dog; and one expects, as they are swimming, to see four legs and a thin curly tail come out of the water. Instead of that, the body narrows away till there is seen a tail like that of a fish. The hind-feet are like those of a duck when in the water, and the front ones have, beyond the skin, only a flapper or paw with claws, at the end of it. They are covered with thick, glossy hair, closely set against the skin. The form of their jaws and teeth proves that they are carnivorous, and they are known to live on fish, crabs, and sea-birds. The birds they catch in the water, as they can swim with great rapidity and ease. They can remain also for a considerable time under the water, without coming to the surface to breathe.

The sea-lion, which was the species of seal we were hoping to attack, grows to the length of ten feet. The colour is of a yellowish-brown, and the males have a large mane, which covers their neck and shoulders, so that they have very much the appearance of lions when their upper part alone is seen above the water. Such were the monsters which seemed to be guarding the island towards which we were pulling, their roar vying in loudness with the hoarse sound of the surf as it beat on the rock-bound shore.

Newman and I were in the captain’s boat. As we pulled in for the land, we saw that the surf rolled up on every side, and for some time we could not discover a clear spot through which we might urge the boats. We continued pulling on for half a mile or more, and caught sight of what appeared to be a channel between the reefs. The captain ordered us to give way, and bending to our oars, we pulled on with a will. A sailor loves a run on shore, even though that shore may be but a barren sand; but here we had two objects to excite our interest. The deserted wreck claimed our first attention. It was easy to see how she had got into her present position. An unusually high-tide and heavy gale must have lifted her over the reef, and driven her on shore; and the wind falling before she had time to go to pieces, must have left her comparatively safe from further injury. The captain stood up in his boat to watch for an opportunity to enter the passage.

“Now, again, my lads, give way!” he shouted. The boat lifted on the summit of a roller, and rushing on with the dark rocks and hissing foam on either side of us, in another instant we found ourselves calmly floating in a reef-surrounded lagoon or bay. We had to pull back for some distance to get to the wreck, and as we advanced, we looked along the shore to discover, if we could, traces of any of the crew. All, however, was silent and desolate.

From the appearance of the island, Newman observed that he thought it must be the crater of an extinct volcano, and that even the lapse of ages had allowed scarcely soil enough to collect on it, to permit of more than the scanty vegetation which was visible.

As we approached the wreck, we found that she had gone stem on into the mouth of a little creek, and there had been held fast by two rocks. Her build at once made us suspect that she was a whaler like ourselves. All her boats and bulwarks were gone, and her stern was much stove in. Her main and mizzen-masts had been carried away, so had her foretopmast and the head of the foremast below the top, the stump only remaining. On this a yard still hung across, and the tattered fragment of a sail, showing us that she had run stem on into her present position. As her stern could be approached by water which was quite smooth, we ran the boats under it, and climbed on board. The sea had made a clean breach through the stern, and inundated the cabin, which presented a scene of ruin and desolation. The bulkheads had been knocked away; the contents of the sideboard, and sleeping-places, and lockers, all lay scattered about, shattered into fragments, in the wildest confusion, among sand, and slimy sea-weed, and shells, which thickly coated the whole of the lower part of the cabin; while the hold itself, between which and the cabin all the partitions had been knocked away, was full of water. No living being remained on board to tell us how the catastrophe had occurred. On going forward, we found that the rocks between which she was jammed were separated from the shore, and that without a boat it would have been difficult to get aboard. After the captain had examined the wreck, he gave it as his opinion that she had been there three or four years, if not longer. One thing appeared certain, that she could not have got where she was without people on board to steer her; and then the question arose, what had become of them?

If any of them were still alive on the shore, they must long ago have seen the ship, and would have been waiting to receive us. The captain thought that they might have possibly been taken off by another ship soon after the wreck; still he resolved not to return without having searched thoroughly for them. We pulled round astern of the wreck, and there, in a sort of natural dock, found an easy landing-place.

As we walked across the island, we found that some of the lower spots, the dells and valleys, produced a greater amount of vegetation than had appeared at a distance; but could not retrieve the character of desolation given by the black, barren hills, and dark abrupt cliffs which arose on every side. We had given up all expectation of finding anyone alive, or any signs of the spot ever having been inhabited, when we heard a cry from Newman, who had wandered a little on one side.

We found him standing on a green hillock, raised a little above the valley, whence on one side a wide view over the blue sparkling sea could be obtained, with some shrubs of semi-tropical luxuriance, and the bright yellow sands forming the foreground, while behind arose the dark frowning cliffs and hills I have described. On the top of the hillock were four mounds, side by side, and at one end of each was seen a rough, flat piece of wood, a rude substitute for a grave-stone. There were names on them of Englishmen, and dates showing that they had died at intervals of a month or two from one another.

Where were the survivors?—who had buried these men? was now the question. A group of cocoa-nut trees, all that were on the island, marked the spot. It was one selected with much taste. The discovery induced us to persevere in our search. We wandered on for another hour, turning in every direction; for so full of undulations was the island, that we might easily have passed the very spot we were in search of. At last we were again called together by a shout from Newman.

We found him standing before a rude hut erected in front of a cave, which formed, indeed, a back apartment to it. There was only one rough bed-place on one side of it, though there were several stools, and a table in the centre. A seaman’s chest stood open, and contained a few articles of clothing. There were two muskets, and some powder-flasks hung up against the wall; but there was no food, although an iron pot and a saucepan, with a place where a fire had been made, showed that provisions had at one time been cooked there. On a shelf there were several books, both in English and in foreign languages, and above them was a flute with a music-book. A few carpenter’s tools were arranged on another shelf. Several things showed that the place had last been inhabited by a person of superior education. On opening the books, a name was found in several of them. It was that of William Evans. Two of them Newman discovered to be on medical subjects, which of course made us conjecture that they had belonged to the surgeon of the ship. The decayed state of the books showed that it was long since they had been opened, and on a further examination of the hut, it also was found to be in a very dilapidated condition. From the number of things left in the hut, Captain Carr surmised that the last occupants must have left the place very suddenly, if, indeed, they had left it at all. One thing was certain, that we were not likely to find any of them on the island.

We were, therefore, on our return to the boats, when I saw the figure of a man sitting, with his back to a rock, on a gentle slope, whence a view could be obtained of the blue ocean. I had separated a little from my companions. I called to him, and I thought I heard him answer, “Halloa, who calls?” His face was turned away from me, and he did not move. I called again, and at that moment Newman broke through the brushwood, and joined me. Together we climbed the hill, both equally surprised that the man we saw did not get up to meet us. In another minute we were by his side. The straw-hat, stained and in tatters, covered a skull; the clothes, decayed and discoloured, hung loosely on a fleshless skeleton. A book was by his side. It was a copy of a Latin poet—Horace, Newman told me. Before him was another book of manuscript; and, as we looked about, we picked up the remains of pencil, which had dropped from the dead man’s fingers. Newman opened the manuscript, and though it was rotten, and the characters much defaced, he could still decipher them. He glanced his eye rapidly over them.

“Ah! poor fellow, his appears to have been a sad fate,” he remarked, with a voice full of sadness. “Compelled by a strong necessity to leave England—to wrench asunder all the ties which held him there, and embark on board a South-sea-man as surgeon—he seems to have had a hard life of it with a drunken, brutal captain, and ignorant—not a human being with whom he could sympathise. Unable to return home, after three years’ service he exchanged into another ship. His master and officers, with all the boats, were away in chase of whales, which had appeared about them in great numbers, when a gale arose. The crew, already too much weakened by that scourge of the ocean, the scurvy, and the loss of several men, were unable to shorten sail. The boats were far out of sight, as they believed, to windward. In vain they endeavoured to beat up to them. The main and mizzen-masts went by the board; and the gale still further increasing, they were compelled to run before it, without a prospect of picking up their shipmates in the boats.

“Away they drove for several days before the wind, till one night all who were below were thrown out of their berths by a violent concussion. Again and again the ship struck—the sea beat in her stern. They rushed on deck. It was to find nearly all those who had been there washed away. The next instant, the ship again lifting, was carried into smooth water, and finally jammed fast in the position we had found her.

“Five only of all the crew then survived, and they were the most sickly. The writer was himself suffering from illness; happily, however, he bore up against it. They collected all the provisions, and all articles likely to be useful, which the sea had not destroyed, and carried them on shore, which they easily reached by means of a raft.

“They had food enough to last them for some time; but they had but a scanty supply of water. In vain they searched through the island—no springs were to be found. With great labour they got up all the casks of water still uninjured from the hold, and resolved to husband the contents. They formed themselves a habitation. They made reservoirs in which to catch the rain when it fell; but, in those latitudes, for many weeks together no rain falls. For a time, with their fire-arms, they killed a few birds; but their ammunition failed them, and they could kill no more. Their water was at last expended, and for many weeks together the only moisture they could obtain was by chewing the leaves of the shrubs and grass they found. They continued, as at first, very weak. They talked of building a boat from the wreck, but had neither strength nor knowledge among them sufficient for the undertaking.

“At last their spirits gave way, and disease made fearful progress with them all. One by one they died, and the survivors buried them. The writer of the sad journal was alone left.” Alas! not a word did he say about seeking consolation where alone it can be given—not a thought about another world and judgment to come. The writer seemed to pride himself on his heathen stoicism—heathen expressions of resignation were alone mentioned. His dying eyes had rested on the pages of Horace—his dying thoughts, were they heavenward?

“In vain had he crawled to the spot where we found him, day after day, in the faint hopes of seeing a ship to bear him away. Three long years had thus passed, and all the food that had been brought on shore had been consumed; and he had not strength to search for more, so he came up there and sat himself down, and his spirit passed away.”

Mr Newman had read this rapid sketch of the last events in the life of this unhappy exile before the captain came up, when he handed him the journal. The captain desired Newman to keep the “Horace,” observing that he could not himself understand the contents.

We had found some tools in the hut, with which we dug a shallow grave close to where we had found these sad remains of mortality, and in it we placed them. On the rock above we cut the name of William Evans, and the date of the day on which we found him dead. Loading ourselves with the articles found in the hut, Newman being allowed to take most of the books as his share, we returned to the boats.

Although a longer time had been spent on shore than the captain intended, he allowed us to endeavour to capture some of the sea-lions. After pulling, however, some way along the lagoon, we discovered that they could not be approached from the land-side, as they had taken up their quarters on some high rocks, almost islands by themselves, in advance of the reefs. We were, therefore, compelled to pass into the open sea before attacking them—the passage by which we entered; and, waiting an opportunity, we dashed through in safety.

As we approached the largest rock, it was curious to watch the hundreds, or, I may say, thousands of fierce-looking monsters which covered its slippery surface. It would have required bold men, not acquainted with their habits, to attack them, as they looked down upon us from their seemingly unapproachable fortress. On one side, the surf broke far too fiercely to allow the boats to venture near; but on the other, although there was a good deal of surf, Captain Carr told us we might land. The only way, however, to get on shore was to pull in on the summit of a breaker; and while those in the bow leaped out on the rock, the rest of the crew had to pull back the boat again with all their force into smooth water. We were armed for the attack with two or three harpoons, a lance, and the boat’s stretchers.

“Stand by, my lads—now’s the time!” shouted our captain, as the two boats rolled in towards the shore. He led the way, lance in hand; Newman and I and old Knowles following from his boat. Our sudden appearance on the confines of their fortress evidently not a little astonished the sea-lions. Opening wide their jaws, and gnashing with their formidable tusks, they glanced at us from the heights above, and then, with reiterated and terrific roars, began to descend with impetuous force, as if with their overwhelming numbers to drive us into the sea. An old sea-lion led the van—a fierce monster, who looked capable of competing with all of us together. So he might, if he had possessed legs instead of fins or flappers, the latter only enabling him to twist and turn and slide down the inclined plane on which we stood into the sea. On the beasts came in dense masses, roaring and snarling. I certainly did look for a moment at the boats, and wish myself safe back again in them; but it was only for a moment, for our antagonists demanded all our strength and agility to compete with them. Our captain advanced boldly towards the old leader, and as he came right at him, plunged his lance into his side. It had not the effect of stopping the beast in his career; but, instead, very nearly carried him and the lance into the water. Old Knowles was, I thought, very inadequately armed only with a thick stick, which he always carried on shore with him, curiously cut and carved, and fastened to his wrist by a lanyard.

“Let me alone,” said he; “Old Trusty is better in a scrimmage, whether with man or beast, than all your fire-arms and steel weapons. He always goes off, and never gets blunt.”

Newman and I were armed with harpoons. Newman, following the captain’s example, plunged his harpoon into the side of a seal, just as the beast, with the greatest impetus, was sliding down the rock. In attempting to stop its way, his foot slipped, and with the line coiled round his arm, before any of us could go to his assistance, he was dragged off into the boiling waters. He was a first-rate swimmer, but with so huge a sea-monster attached to him, how could he hope to escape. The rock sloped in a different direction to where the boats were, so that they could render him no assistance. I thought of the scene we had just witnessed—the unhappy exile dying alone on the desert island—and I dreaded a similar fate for my friend. With a cry of dismay we looked towards the drowning man. He disappeared among the foaming breakers.

Still, but with little hope, we watched the spot. Yes—there was his head! He was swimming free! Bravely he mounted the crest of a roller; it rushed in for the rock; but before he could find his footing, or we could stretch out our arms to help him, he was carried off again among the foaming waves. Meantime old Knowles had climbed up the rock in the face of the sea-lions, whom he was knocking on the head right and left with his club, and signalled the boats to pull round to Newman’s assistance. Still, however, with only a couple of hands in each, it would take, I saw, a considerable time before they could reach him, and I resolved to make one attempt to save his life, at the risk, though it might be, of my own. Sticking my harpoon in a crevice of the rock which my eye at that instant fell on, I seized the end of the line, and in spite of the sea-lions, which kept rushing past me, I struck out into the surf as I saw Newman once more approaching. Happily I grasped him by the collar as the sea was once more heaving him back, and the captain and other shipmates coming to our assistance, we were hauled safely up the rocks.

There was not now a moment to be lost if we would capture any seals. Although many had escaped, still a good number remained near; and following the example set by old Knowles, we began laying about us on every side most lustily with our weapons, bestowing heavy blows on the heads of the frightened beasts. One blow was generally sufficient to stun, if not to kill them outright, and we then quickly despatched them with our knives. “On, my lads, on!” cried the captain; and up the rocky steep we went, meeting the maddened inhabitants as they came floundering down upon us. We had literally often to climb over the fallen bodies of the slain. Sometimes one of our party would miss his footing, and he and half-a-dozen seals would go sliding away down the rock, the beasts biting at him, and he struggling to get free, and in no small terror of being carried away into the surf. Such would inevitably have been the lot of more than one of us had not we all kept a watch to help each other out of such difficulties.

Our captain’s combat with the old lion was the most severe. As the captain, unwilling to lose his lance or the beast, holding on to the former, was dragged downwards, they reached a ledge of rock which sloped in an opposite direction to the surrounding parts, and thus formed a table on which they could rest. Here the monster, finding that he could not escape from his opponent, turned bravely to bay, and grinning with his large, strong teeth, made fiercely at him. The captain held on pertinaciously to the handle of the spear, springing actively out of the way of the beast’s mouth, as in its contortions and struggles it approached him too nearly. The lion roared, and snarled, and struggled, and the captain held on bravely, but I believe would soon have had to let go had not old Knowles, springing down the rock, given the animal a blow on the head with his stick, which effectually settled him.

There were many other single combats, and more of one man against half-a-dozen beasts; but the result was that we came off victorious without the loss of anyone, while we could boast of having killed upwards of sixty seals. Our next work was to flay them. This, in the hands of experienced operators, was soon performed, and in a short time we had sufficient skins ready to load our boats, and to make caps and jackets for all hands, besides what were required for the ship’s use. The boats now came back to the spot where we were to embark, and by carefully waiting our time, we leaped on board with no other damage than wet jackets.

“Williams,” said Newman, as we were pulling on shore, “you have nobly preserved my life at the risk of your own. I trust that I may be grateful.”

Chapter Eighteen.Whaling and Seal-Catching in the Icy Regions.Strong breezes, and cold and thick weather, showed us that we were getting out of the genial latitudes, in which, without much success, we had been for some time cruising, and were approaching those icy regions which encircle the Antarctic Pole. Newman had made such progress in his knowledge of seamanship, that he was not only considered competent to undertake all the ordinary duties of a seaman, but was more trusted than many of the older hands. He soon gave evidence that this confidence was not misplaced. He and I were in the same watch. This was a great satisfaction to me, as I benefited largely by his conversation, which I was now beginning fully to appreciate.One night we had the middle watch, and were together on the look-out forward. It was unusually dark; neither moon nor stars were visible, and the clouds hung down in a thick canopy over us. A strong breeze was blowing from the southward and eastward, and we were standing to the south-west with our port-tacks aboard. The sea was not very heavy, but it struck me at the time that it was somewhat uneven and irregular, and this made me suspect that we might be in the neighbourhood of land or fields of ice. Newman was talking of the Aurora Australis, and telling me how much he longed to see its effect in its fullest brilliancy, when suddenly he seized my arm with a firm grasp.“Williams!” he exclaimed, “do you see that unusual whiteness glimmering there ahead, and on our starboard bow? I hear the surf beating on it! I’m sure it’s an iceberg! Starboard your helm! Luff all you can! Starboard for your lives!” he shouted, rushing aft to see this done. I meantime called on those on deck to get a pull at the head-braces; an inch might save the ship.There was no time for ceremony; no time to announce the fact in set form to the officer of the watch. This was the second mate. He was, happily, a sensible man. He at once comprehended the emergency, and gave the necessary orders to brace up the yards, and bring the ship close upon a wind. We were not a moment too soon in anything that was done. The white glimmering appearance grew every instant more distinct, till it resolved itself into a vast massive iceberg towering high above the mast-heads, while the roar of the breakers which dashed against its sides increased in loudness. The ship heeled over to the gale till her yard-arms seemed almost to touch the floating mountain. Still she stood up bravely to her canvas, closely hugging the wind. Had a rope been rotten, had a spar given way, our fate might have been sealed. In one instant after striking, the ship and everything in her might have been dashed to atoms.The man with firmest nerves among all our crew watched that lofty berg, as we rushed by it in our midnight course, with feelings of awe and anxiety, if not of alarm, and drew a breath more freely when he looked over the quarter and saw the danger past. It was not the only one we encountered that night. Sail had been shortened; but it was evidently necessary, after the warning we had received, to keep the ship as much as possible under command.On, on we flew through the murky night, the gale every moment increasing in force, and the sea rising and breaking in unexpected directions. We had again kept away on our course. Sail was still further reduced. The cold had before been considerable; it now much increased, and our decks were covered with ice. Captain Carr had, the moment we sighted the iceberg, come on deck; the watch below were called, and every one was at his post. It was not a time for anyone to be spared. We had evidently got into the icy regions sooner than had been expected. Intending to get out of them, the captain gave the order to keep away; but scarcely had we done so when an ice-field was seen extending away on our lee-bow and ahead, and we were again obliged to haul up, hoping to get round it. On, therefore, we sailed; but as we advanced we found the ice-field extending away on our starboard-beam, the sea breaking over it with a noise which warned us what would be the consequence if we should strike it.Let our position be pictured for an instant. The fierce waves dashing wildly and irregularly about us; the storm raging fiercely; the ship driving onwards through pitchy darkness; wide, massive fields of ice extending on every side; huge icebergs floating around we knew not where; no lighthouse, no chart to guide us; our eyes and ears stretched to the utmost, giving but short warning of approaching danger. Such are the scenes which wear out a commander’s strength, and make his hair turn quickly grey. We knew full well that dangers still thickly surrounded us, and heartily did we wish for the return of day to see them. Newman and I were again forward. I was telling him that I had heard of a ship striking a berg, and of several of her people being saved on it, while she went down, when he startled me by singing out with a voice of thunder, “Ice ahead!” At the same moment old Knowles cried out, “Ice on the weather-bow!” and immediately I had to echo the shout with “Ice on the lee-bow!” and another cried, “Ice abeam!”To tack would have been instant destruction; to wear, there was no room. Every moment we expected to feel the awful crash as the stout ship encountered the hard ice. Captain Carr rushed forward. We must dash onward. Though no opening could be seen, there might be one! Onward we careered. Every man held his breath; and pale, I doubt not, turned the faces of the bravest. Suddenly, high above us, on the weather-side, appeared another iceberg. The sea became almost calm; but it was a calmness fraught with danger rather than safety. The sails, caught by the eddy-wind, were taken aback. In another moment we might have been driven, without power of saving ourselves, under that frowning cliff of ice. The storm raged above us—before us—behind us—on every side but there we lay, as if exhausted. Still the ship had way on her, and we continued our course. The channel was too narrow to allow the helm to be put up.Just as she was losing her way, and would inevitably, through the force of the eddy-wind, have got stern-way on her, her headsails again felt the force of the gale, and, like a hound loosed from the leash, she started forward on her course. Again we were plunging madly through the wildly breaking seas; but the wind blew steadily, and the ice-fields widened away on either side till they were lost to view. Once again we were saved by a merciful Providence from an almost inevitable destruction. Still, we had some hours of darkness before us, and an unknown sea full of ice-islands through which we must pass. Not an eye was closed that night. Again we were close to one, but we were now better able to distinguish them than at first. This time we had to keep away, and run to the northward; but before long, there arose ahead of us a fourth iceberg. Again we sprung to the braces, the helm was put down, and, once more close-hauled, we weathered the danger.Thus we hurried on—narrowly escaping danger after danger till daylight approached. Before, however, the sun arose, the gale fell; the clouds cleared away; and a bright gleam appeared in the eastern sky. Up shot the glorious sun, and never shall I forget the scene of gorgeous magnificence his bright rays lighted. Both sky and sea became of a deep blue—the water calm and clear as crystal—while all around us floated mountains of brilliant whiteness, like masses of the purest alabaster, of every varied form and size. Many were 200 feet high, and nearly a third of a mile in length. Some had perpendicular sides, with level summits—fit foundations, it might seem, for building cities of marble palaces, or fortresses for the kings of the East. Some, again, were broken into every fantastic form conceivable—towers and turrets, spires and minarets, domes and cupolas; here, the edifices found most commonly under the symbol of the crescent; there, those of the cross: Norman castles, Gothic cathedrals, Turkish mosques, Grecian temples, Chinese pagodas, were all here fully represented, and repeated in a thousand different ways. Others had been broken or melted into the forms of jagged cliffs, gigantic arches, lofty caverns, penetrating far away into the interior. Scarcely a shape which is to be found among the butting crags, sea-beat headlands, or mountain summits, in every part of the world, was not there represented in the most brilliant and purest of materials. Whole cities, too, were there to be seen pictured; squares and streets, and winding lanes, running up from the water’s edge, like a ruined Genoa, with marble palaces, and churches, and alabaster fountains, and huge piles of buildings of every possible form standing proudly up amid the ocean, the whole appearing like some scene of enchantment rather than a palpable reality. Here was seen a lofty mountain rent in two by some fierce convulsion of nature; there, a city overturned: here, rocks upheaved and scattered around in wild confusion; there, deep gorges, impenetrable ravines, and terrific precipices;—indeed, here Nature, in her wildest and most romantic forms, was fully represented. The beauty of the wondrous spectacle was heightened when the sun arose, from the varied gorgeous tints which flashed from mountain-top and beetling cliff, from tower, turret, and pinnacle, where its bright rays fell on them as they slowly moved round in their eccentric courses. No words, however, can describe the dazzling whiteness and brilliancy of the floating masses. From some of the most lofty, fountains might be seen gushing down, as from a mountain’s top when the fierce rays of the sun melt the long-hardened snow; while in and out of the deep caverns the sea-birds flew and screamed, peopling those dreary solitudes with joyous life.The sun soon melted the ice from off our decks and rigging, and as we sailed onward the air became warm and genial. The most insensible of us could not but admire the scene; but Newman could scarcely repress his exclamations of delight and surprise. His sketch-book was brought out, and rapidly he committed to paper some of the most remarkable portions of the beautiful scene. Still, no pencil, no colours could represent the glorious, the magnificent tints in which the sea and sky, and the majestic varied-shaped icebergs, were bathed, as the sun, bursting forth from his ocean-bed, glided upwards in the eastern heavens. Numbers of birds came circling round the ship in their rapid flight, or were seen perched on the pinnacles of the bergs, or flying among their caverned recesses—albatrosses, snow-white petrels, penguins, and ducks of various sorts.The albatross—Diomedea, as Newman called it—is the most powerful and largest of all aquatic birds. Its long hard beak is very strong, and of a pale yellow colour. The feet are webbed. I have seen some, the wings of which, when extended, measured fifteen feet from tip to tip, while they weighed upwards of twenty pounds. It feeds while on the wing, and is very voracious, pouncing down on any object which its piercing eye can discover in the water; and many a poor fellow, when swimming for his life, having fallen overboard, has been struck by one, and sunk to rise no more.The snow-white petrel is a beautiful bird, and in its colours offers a strong contrast to the stormy petrel, (Thalassidroma), the chief part of whose plumage is of a sooty black, and others dark brown. Instead of being dreaded by seamen, it ought to be looked upon as their friend, for it seems to know long before they do when a storm is approaching, and by its piercing cry and mode of flight warns them of the coming danger. Seamen, however, instead of being grateful, like the world of old, the world at present, and the world as it ever will be, look upon these little prophets with dread and hatred, and in their ignorance and stupidity consider them the cause of the evil portended.Penguins are found only in the Antarctic Ocean. They derive their name frompinguis, “fat,” they being noted for that quality. Their legs are placed so far back that, when on shore, they stand almost upright. Though on land their movements are very awkward, yet when in the water—which, more than the air, must be considered their natural element, as their wings are too small to allow them to fly—they are bold birds, and will bravely defend themselves or their young when attacked, and will advance on a retreating enemy.We had not been long in these icy regions before we reaped an ample reward for all the dangers we had encountered. As we looked over the side, we observed the water full of animalcules, while vast quantities of shrimps of various sorts were seen in the neighbourhood of the icebergs; but what still more raised our hopes of finding whales, were the numbers of large squid, or cuttle-fish, on which, as I have said, they chiefly feed. We were watching a huge fellow floating near the ship, with outstretched tentaculae, of arms, extending an immense distance from his head, and with which he was dragging up into his voracious mouth thousands of animalculae every moment—and from his size he seemed capable of encircling the body of any unfortunate person he might find swimming—when the cry was heard from aloft of “There she, spouts—there she spouts!”In an instant Newman’s lecture of natural history, which he was giving us, was brought to a conclusion. All hands were on deck, and four boats were manned and lowered, and pulled away after no less than three fine bull whales, which appeared at the same instant round the ship. There is a danger in attacking a whale near an iceberg which is avoided in the open sea. When he is fast, he may sound under it, and come up on the other side; but instinct warns him not to come up so as to strike his head against it.Newman and I had already gone in the boats, and had proved ourselves no bad oarsmen on the occasion. He, indeed, had been allowed by the captain to use the harpoon when one of the officers was ill, and had succeeded in striking his first fish in a way which gained him much credit. On this occasion, however, we both remained on board.Suddenly, not far from the ship, another whale rose to the surface, and, in a most extraordinary manner, began to turn, and twist, to throw half his huge bulk at a time out of the water, and furiously to lash it with his tail till he was surrounded with a mass of foam. The boats were in another direction, or we should have thought he had been wounded, and had a lance or harpoon sticking in him, from which he was endeavouring to free himself. He swam on, however, and approached the ship, still continuing his extraordinary contortions. As he drew near, he lifted his enormous head out of the water, when we saw hanging to his lower jaw a large fish, twenty feet long or so, from which he was thus in vain endeavouring to free himself! We had no little cause to be alarmed, as he drew near, for the safety of the ship herself; for, in the blindness of his agony, he might unintentionally strike her, or he might rush against her side to get rid of his pertinacious enemy. More than once the whale threw himself completely out of the water; but the fish still hung on to his bleeding jaw. Together they fell again into the sea, while all around them was stained of a crimson hue from the blood so copiously flowing from the worried monster.“That’s a killer!” cried old Tom. “He’ll not let go the whale till he has him in his flurry, and then he and his mates will make a feast of him. They have great strong teeth, bigger than a shark’s, and are the most voracious fish I ever saw. They bait a whale just as dogs do a wild beast, or a bull, and seldom fail to kill him if they once get hold of him.”This killer had a long dorsal fin, and a brown back and white belly. On came the whale and the fish, twisting and turning as before. We all stood ready to try and send them off—though very little use that would have been, I own. Happily they floundered by just astern of the ship; but so violent were their movements, and by such a mass of foam and blood were they surrounded, that it was difficult to observe the appearance of the killer. Equally impossible would it have been to have approached the whale to harpoon him without an almost certainty of losing the boat and the lives of all her crew. We could, therefore, only hope that the whale might be conquered when still within sight, so that the boats might carry off the prize from the relentless killer. Away went the monster and his tormentor. Soon we could no longer distinguish them from the deck; but on going aloft, we again caught sight of them, still floundering on as before.“That fish gives us a lesson of what pertinacity will accomplish, even in conquering the greatest of difficulties,” observed Newman, laughing. “I admire the way in which he sticks to his object. He has made up his mind to kill the whale, and kill the whale he will.”“Ay, and eat him too, Ned, as he deserves,” said old Knowles. “Some of us might learn a lesson from that fish, I’m thinking.”“I have been killing whales all my life,” Newman remarked to me with a forced laugh. “But somehow or other, Jack, I never have found out how to eat them.”“Overcoming difficulties, but not benefiting by them!” said I. “There must be a fault somewhere.”“Ay, Jack, ay—a fault in myself, and a curse well-deserved,” he answered, bitterly, and then was silent. I never before had heard him speak in that way, and I did not venture to ask for an explanation.That saying of Newman became common ever afterwards on board, when we saw a man determined to do a thing—“Kill the whale he will!”I have often thought since, how seldom sailors, especially, learn to eat whales. What sums of money they make and throw carelessly away!—amply sufficient to enable them to pass the end of their days in comfort on shore, or to provide respectably for their families, instead, as is often the case with the merchant-seaman, ending their days in a poor-house, or leaving their families to the cold charity of the world. Brother seamen, learn wisdom! Prepare for the future of this life; and, more than all, prepare for the life to come.Two of the whales chased were captured and brought alongside, when we set to work to cut-in and try-out with all the rapidity we could exert. In those high southern latitudes the weather is very variable, and we knew that a change might come and deprive us of our prey. We were, however, fortunate in securing both whales, and between them they gave us one hundred and sixty barrels of fine oil. Before, however, the boats had returned with their prizes, the whale and the killer had got far out of sight even from the mast-head. We continued for some time fishing in those quarters, amply rewarded for the dangers we had encountered by the success we met with. Sometimes, however, we were days and days together without even seeing a whale; and several were lost, after chasing them with much toil and difficulty.Newman contributed much all the time to keep the people in good humour, by always finding them employment; and Captain Carr, unlike some masters I have met with, afforded him every assistance in his plans. Among other things, he established regular classes below, and, with the exception of one or two very idle, stupid fellows, all the crew belonged to one or other of them. Besides a reading and writing class, he had an arithmetic and geography class, and a music and a drawing class. His singing class was the most numerous, and he very soon taught nearly all hands to sing together in admirable tune and time. I at first exclusively attended the reading and writing class, devoting every moment I was off duty to my books; so that, much to my own surprise and delight, I soon found that I could read with ease and satisfaction. Writing was a more difficult task: to one whose fingers had never been accustomed to the cramped position required for holding a pen. Still, Newman had a way of overcoming that difficulty. Making me throw the weight of my body on my left side, he left my right hand and fingers free, and kept me for some time with a dry pen simply moving up and down across the page. Even when I had begun to form letters, at the commencement of every lesson he made me follow this plan for a few minutes, that, as he said, I might get my fingers into training before I disfigured the paper and became disgusted with my own performance. He himself seemed never to grow weary of teaching. No ignorance or stupidity daunted him; and it used to surprise me that a man of such extensive information and extraordinary talents, should take the trouble of imparting knowledge to people who were so immeasurably his inferiors. I used to observe, from the first, that he was never for a moment idle. “Ned must always be doing something or other,” old Tom observed of him. “It’s all the better for him that he is afloat. If he were on shore, he would be doing mischief.” His great object seemed to be to fly from himself. Sometimes, when I was talking with him, from the strangeness of his remarks, and from his bursts of feeling, I thought that there must be a touch of madness about him; but then, again, immediately afterwards, he would say something so full of thought and sense, that I banished the idea.To me he proved the greatest blessing. I was becoming a new character. I had discovered powers within me of which I before had no conception. I had gone on through life, if not rejoicing in my ignorance, at least indifferent to it. I had picked up a certain amount of knowledge from the conversation of others, but it was ill-digested, and I was full of the grossest prejudices. I have scarcely, indeed, given a correct notion of what I was up to this time. I might describe myself just as I once heard a shipmate spoken of—asjust an ignorant common sailor. Such I had been. I could now read. I could dive into the rich stores collected by other minds, and make them my own. Without robbing others, I could appropriate their wealth, and enjoy all the benefits it could afford. Once having begun to read, the taste grew on me. I read through and through every book Newman possessed.After a time, as his talents came to be known and appreciated by the captain, and officers, and surgeon, he was able to borrow books from them, which he allowed me to read. Although not many of them were very enlightening, they served to show me my own ignorance from the allusions they made, which I was totally unable to comprehend; and this only made me desire to gain further information, which it was somewhat difficult to obtain. As to Newman himself, he literally devoured every book which came in his way. He soon read through every book to be found on board; and whenever we fell in with another ship, he used to borrow all he could, or exchange his own books for others. Unfortunately, the literature in those days to be found at sea was generally of a very inferior character, and not at all calculated to improve its readers. Still, some knowledge was gleaned from all but the worst, and some errors and prejudices corrected. Newman had, however, certain favourites among his books, both English and foreign, which he would on no account have parted with. These he used frequently to read to me in our spare hours, or when we were engaged in such work as required our hands alone to be employed. I observed, indeed, after a little time, that we had far less employment found for us than had been the case in other ships on board which I had served; and this, I suspect, was because we found it for ourselves, or rather Newman found it for us. I never met with men so contented and happy as we all became; and this I could only account for by supposing that we were interested in our various occupations.Newman was also the great peacemaker on board. Whenever a dispute arose, he always inquired the point at issue, and, without allowing time for the temper of either party to become irritated, he generally contrived to settle the matter. If he could not manage that, he used to try and raise a laugh by some absurd observation, or would place the position assumed by one man or the other in so ridiculous a light, that he seldom failed to show him that he was wrong.One thing I remarked about Newman was, that he never alluded to any religious subject. I never saw him pray. He had no Bible or Prayer-book with him. I never heard him give utterance to a sentiment of piety, or of trust in God’s mercy or fear of his anger. I did, on the contrary, frequently hear him praise the Greek and Roman philosophers of old, and he often spoke of the stoicism and heroism of the heathens. Still he neither blasphemed, nor cursed, nor swore, nor did he ever attempt to instil any infidel notions into the minds of any of us. However, I fear that he was, to all intents and purposes, a heathen. I doubt, indeed, whether he ever had any religion. I suspect that he was brought up without any; and that at no time, during the period he was gaining his education, did he meet with anyone to instruct him. I could not even then help contrasting the confiding piety and true religion of my old shipmates, Peter Poplar and Captain Gale, with the entire want of it which he displayed.Indeed, Captain Carr, though a kind and worthy man, and a good sailor, was sadly unenlightened as to the truth; and all the years I served with him we neither had prayers nor any religious observance whatever on board. On a Sunday, if the weather was fine, and no whales were in sight, we put on clean clothes, mended and washed our old ones, and had an additional glass of grog served out, with less work than usual given us to do. On board most South-Seamen every day in the week was much the same. It was a fact, I fear, and one painful to contemplate, that Newman, with all his great and varied talents, lived on as if there were no God in the world. I do not mention this without a purpose. It seems strange that it was from such a man I received the instruction which enabled me ultimately to attain to a knowledge of, and active belief in, the truth. It shows by what varied instruments God works to bring about his gracious purposes. It convinced me of the power and effect of grace. Here was I, sunk deep myself in ignorance, and living among those who were equally unaware of the truth, called out of darkness into His marvellous light. But I am anticipating events.We continued cruising near the Antarctic Circle during the few short months of summer with unvaried success. We had frequent displays at night of the Aurora Australis. Sometimes the whole southern hemisphere would be covered with arches of a beautiful straw-colour, from which streamers would radiate, both upwards and downwards, of a pure glittering white. The stars would be glittering brightly overhead; while, from east-south-east to west-north-west, a number of concentric arches would appear, forming a complete canopy in the sky; then suddenly they would vanish, again shortly to appear. Some nights it appeared in the form of cumuli, tinged with pale yellow; and behind them arose brilliant red, purple, orange, and yellow tints, streaming upwards in innumerable radiations, with every combination of shade which these colours could produce. Another night we saw a bright crescent, and from it feathery-edged rays, of a pale orange colour, branched off in every direction, while across it a succession of the prismatic colours appeared rapidly to flit. Indeed, it is difficult to describe the various forms which the Aurora assumes.One of the most curious sights I ever beheld we witnessed some time after this. It was the appearance of the sun and moon above the horizon at the same time: the moon, which was nearly full, throwing her light—stolen from the sun, which blazed forth at the same time—on the world of icebergs. It was as if we had been looking on two distinct scenes. On one side, the bright rays of the luminary of day were throwing a golden hue on the vast mountain masses of ice which floated on the blue waters; on the other, the pale orb of night cast a silvery fringe on the clouds which surrounded it. There was, indeed, no night; the binnacle-lamp was not even lighted; and we were able to continue, without cessation, trying-out a whale, whose carcase floated alongside. Among other curious things I observed, were large masses of rock—boulders they are called—embedded in the base and centre of icebergs. It shows that they must originally have been formed on shore, and then floated away by some unusually high-tide or commotion of the sea. It explains also the appearance of boulders in places where it would be difficult otherwise to account for their being found.I have seen birds in great numbers on rocks in the ocean, in different parts of the globe, but never have I beheld so many as there were on an island we one day sighted before steering north. There was but little wind, and as the captain thought a supply of birds, although of a somewhat fishy taste, would be an acceptable addition to our daily fare of salt junk and salt pork, he directed the third mate, with Newman, me, and four other men, to take a boat and bring off as many as we could kill. Calm as it was, the surf rolled so heavily in on the rocks that it was a work of no little difficulty and danger to approach them so as to gain a footing out of the reach of the waves. The mate ordered an anchor to be let go, and, veering away on the cable, we dropped gradually in; and while, boat-hook in hand, one at a time leaped on shore, the boat-keepers with their oars kept the boat head to sea, and as soon as we had landed, which we did not succeed in doing without a thorough ducking, they hauled the boat off beyond the breakers.The island on which we stood was a wild, desolate place. Not a tree or a shrub was to be seen; but the hills, which rose to a considerable height above the ocean, were covered with a long thick grass, of a character similar to what grows on the Falkland Islands. Here and there dark rocks cropped out, and the sides of the island were formed in many parts of lofty, precipitous cliffs; while in others, such as the place we had landed on, were rugged rocks sloping gradually down to the sea. A thick fringe of kelp, a slippery sort of sea-weed, added somewhat to the difficulties of our landing. As we advanced, we were assailed by the most frightful gabbling, and screeching, and quacking I ever heard, from thousands and thousands of wild-fowls, chiefly penguins of various species. The whole hillside was literally covered with them and their eggs in dense masses. Nothing daunted at our appearance, when they found that the hubbub they made could not compel us to retreat, they commenced a fierce attack on us with their beaks, pulling at our trousers and pecking at our flesh. In our own defence we were obliged to lay about us with the boat’s stretchers, and to knock them right and left on the head. Some, however, took warning from the fate of their companions; but while those at a distance gabbled and screeched louder than ever, those in the front waddled boldly up to the assault. As far as we could judge, we must have slaughtered the whole colony, or been pecked to death by them if we had attempted to sit down to rest. Every inch of their native soil, like true patriots, they bravely disputed with us; and when any of us, for fun, retreated, to see what they would do, they advanced erect and determined, rolling their heads from side to side in the most comical way, their power of vision residing only in the lower part of each eye. Then they would throw their heads backwards, and utter sounds very like the braying of a jackass; from which circumstance they have been called the Jackass Penguins. All the time, their little wings were actively employed as legs to expedite their movements. When in the water, they use their wings as fins to dive. When they rise again after a dive, they come up with so sudden a dash, instantly being down again, that it is often difficult to say whether they are fish or fowl. The most acceptable part of the spoils were their eggs, which we picked up in great quantities, and stowed away for safety in our caps and hats. Newman and I being in advance of the party, came upon a large rock, on and about which were perched a number of much larger birds than those we had seen below. They sat quietly looking at us till we approached, and then they commenced scolding us as the others had done. They appeared to be arranged in the most perfect order, in ranks like those of an army, each class being by themselves. In one place were hen-birds sitting on their eggs; in another, the mother-birds tending their newly-hatched young; while their mates were away over the ocean fishing for their dinners—a labour in which the hens very soon assist their partners. The moulting birds sit by themselves; and the bachelors, I conclude, have also to dwell in solitude. When we frightened the sitting-hens, we observed that they had a peculiar way of lifting up their eggs between their legs, and waddling off with them. These birds which were much larger than those seen below, are called King Penguins. We each carried off one over our shoulders as trophies.After we left the ship, another boat was lowered to attack some sea-lions, which had been observed on a rock a little way off. We saw our shipmates commencing the attack as we went up the hill. Several were harpooned. One huge monster, notwithstanding a severe wound, managed to make his escape. As we returned down the hill, we found ourselves at the edge of a deep gully, into which the sea dashed, leaping up on either side, but leaving in the centre a space of comparatively clear water. As we looked down into it, we saw it curiously disturbed, and soon there rose to the surface two monsters, which seemed to be attacking each other with the greatest fury. We could have no doubt that they were sea-lions; and from the blood which flowed from the neck of one of them, we guessed that he was the one we had seen wounded. No animals on shore could have fought more desperately, although their teeth alone could be used as weapons of assault. They swam at each other, seizing each other’s snouts, and fins, and lips, and struggled, and turned, and floundered about, till a big sea rushing up, carried both of them out of our sight.“Such are human combats,” observed Newman, with one of his peculiar laughs. “The sharks or the birds of prey will alone benefit by their folly.”While we were speaking, we saw several huge albatrosses flying, at the speed almost of lightning, towards the island. Instantly they pounced down on some of the birds we had killed; but finding that they had not yet a sufficiently high flavour to suit their palates, they picked up some of the eggs which we had compelled the jackass penguins to desert, and flew off with them, it was impossible to say where. We returned to the ship with a boat-load of birds and eggs, but not without a thorough ducking.While I am on the subject of natural history, I will describe another species of seal, which we found on some islands on which we landed. We went on shore, as we had before done, armed with clubs and lances, to capture some of them. It required a knowledge of their inert and slothful character to give us courage to attack them with the weapons which we possessed, for in size and appearance they were most formidable-looking monsters. They were from twenty-five to thirty feet long, and some eighteen feet in circumference. Their heads are armed with large tusks and formidable teeth, and the male has the power of elongating the upper lip into the form of a proboscis, from which circumstance they are called sea-elephants. They are only found in those regions in the summer, as they migrate into warmer latitudes in the winter. We very quickly dispatched a number of them with blows on the head, and then towed them off to the ship, where each produced some eighty gallons of oil. Their skins also, which are of great use for many purposes, were preserved.The nights were again shortening, when, just before dark, it came on to blow hard. Sail was taken off the ship, and those with the best eyes on board were stationed on each bow and at the bowsprit-end, to give notice of any dangers in sight. We were standing to the westward, going free, our captain intending soon to haul up for the northward. It was the darkest part of the still short night, when the lookers-out ahead gave notice that they heard the crashing sound of ice grinding together. Directly afterwards the words “Ice ahead!” echoed along the deck. Immediately the starboard tacks were hauled aboard, and the ship was kept to the northward.Again the startling cry was heard, “Ice on the lee-bow!” then “Ice ahead!” The ship had good way on her. The helm was put down. We flew to the tacks and sheets, and about she came, her counter actually grazing a sheet of ice, against which in another moment she would have struck! We could now only steer to the southward, where we knew more ice must be found, so that we must speedily be about again. It was necessary to keep sufficient sail on the ship to enable us to work her quickly.On we stood into the darkness, with a knowledge that danger was ahead of us. “Ice! ice ahead!” was again the cry. We wore about, but just in time to escape contact with it. We could not tell all the time whether the ice-fields might not be closing on us. Every tack we made was shorter and shorter. Still, our only hope was to beat out of the narrow passage into which the ship had run.Many tacks were made. A huge iceberg, dimly glimmering through the obscurity, towered up before us; yet, though dim, not the less terrific. The helm was put down. There might be space between it and the field-ice to the southward of it. The southern field hove in sight; we tacked, but just in time. Then on we rushed towards the iceberg, beating closely into the wind. Again it appeared on our lee-bow; the ship heeled over to the breeze. On we rushed—a flaw of wind heading us would send us to destruction. The wind held steady.On, on we rushed, the foam flying over our bows and freezing as it fell. A towering cliff of ice appeared over our mast-heads—still we hurried on. There was a loud thundering clash. The stoutest held their breath for fear. Our deck was deluged with spray. Several quickly-following seas struck our stern, lifting the ship before them. The summit of the vast iceberg had fallen—perhaps by the concussion of the air as we moved under it. A moment later, and we should have been crushed to atoms—driven far, far down into the depths of the ocean! The iceberg was passed. It seemed to be guarding the portals of that narrow inlet. As the dawn came on, we could discover the ice trending away to leeward. All day we stood on, gradually increasing our distance from icebergs and fields of ice, till we had, to our no little satisfaction, left them far astern.

Strong breezes, and cold and thick weather, showed us that we were getting out of the genial latitudes, in which, without much success, we had been for some time cruising, and were approaching those icy regions which encircle the Antarctic Pole. Newman had made such progress in his knowledge of seamanship, that he was not only considered competent to undertake all the ordinary duties of a seaman, but was more trusted than many of the older hands. He soon gave evidence that this confidence was not misplaced. He and I were in the same watch. This was a great satisfaction to me, as I benefited largely by his conversation, which I was now beginning fully to appreciate.

One night we had the middle watch, and were together on the look-out forward. It was unusually dark; neither moon nor stars were visible, and the clouds hung down in a thick canopy over us. A strong breeze was blowing from the southward and eastward, and we were standing to the south-west with our port-tacks aboard. The sea was not very heavy, but it struck me at the time that it was somewhat uneven and irregular, and this made me suspect that we might be in the neighbourhood of land or fields of ice. Newman was talking of the Aurora Australis, and telling me how much he longed to see its effect in its fullest brilliancy, when suddenly he seized my arm with a firm grasp.

“Williams!” he exclaimed, “do you see that unusual whiteness glimmering there ahead, and on our starboard bow? I hear the surf beating on it! I’m sure it’s an iceberg! Starboard your helm! Luff all you can! Starboard for your lives!” he shouted, rushing aft to see this done. I meantime called on those on deck to get a pull at the head-braces; an inch might save the ship.

There was no time for ceremony; no time to announce the fact in set form to the officer of the watch. This was the second mate. He was, happily, a sensible man. He at once comprehended the emergency, and gave the necessary orders to brace up the yards, and bring the ship close upon a wind. We were not a moment too soon in anything that was done. The white glimmering appearance grew every instant more distinct, till it resolved itself into a vast massive iceberg towering high above the mast-heads, while the roar of the breakers which dashed against its sides increased in loudness. The ship heeled over to the gale till her yard-arms seemed almost to touch the floating mountain. Still she stood up bravely to her canvas, closely hugging the wind. Had a rope been rotten, had a spar given way, our fate might have been sealed. In one instant after striking, the ship and everything in her might have been dashed to atoms.

The man with firmest nerves among all our crew watched that lofty berg, as we rushed by it in our midnight course, with feelings of awe and anxiety, if not of alarm, and drew a breath more freely when he looked over the quarter and saw the danger past. It was not the only one we encountered that night. Sail had been shortened; but it was evidently necessary, after the warning we had received, to keep the ship as much as possible under command.

On, on we flew through the murky night, the gale every moment increasing in force, and the sea rising and breaking in unexpected directions. We had again kept away on our course. Sail was still further reduced. The cold had before been considerable; it now much increased, and our decks were covered with ice. Captain Carr had, the moment we sighted the iceberg, come on deck; the watch below were called, and every one was at his post. It was not a time for anyone to be spared. We had evidently got into the icy regions sooner than had been expected. Intending to get out of them, the captain gave the order to keep away; but scarcely had we done so when an ice-field was seen extending away on our lee-bow and ahead, and we were again obliged to haul up, hoping to get round it. On, therefore, we sailed; but as we advanced we found the ice-field extending away on our starboard-beam, the sea breaking over it with a noise which warned us what would be the consequence if we should strike it.

Let our position be pictured for an instant. The fierce waves dashing wildly and irregularly about us; the storm raging fiercely; the ship driving onwards through pitchy darkness; wide, massive fields of ice extending on every side; huge icebergs floating around we knew not where; no lighthouse, no chart to guide us; our eyes and ears stretched to the utmost, giving but short warning of approaching danger. Such are the scenes which wear out a commander’s strength, and make his hair turn quickly grey. We knew full well that dangers still thickly surrounded us, and heartily did we wish for the return of day to see them. Newman and I were again forward. I was telling him that I had heard of a ship striking a berg, and of several of her people being saved on it, while she went down, when he startled me by singing out with a voice of thunder, “Ice ahead!” At the same moment old Knowles cried out, “Ice on the weather-bow!” and immediately I had to echo the shout with “Ice on the lee-bow!” and another cried, “Ice abeam!”

To tack would have been instant destruction; to wear, there was no room. Every moment we expected to feel the awful crash as the stout ship encountered the hard ice. Captain Carr rushed forward. We must dash onward. Though no opening could be seen, there might be one! Onward we careered. Every man held his breath; and pale, I doubt not, turned the faces of the bravest. Suddenly, high above us, on the weather-side, appeared another iceberg. The sea became almost calm; but it was a calmness fraught with danger rather than safety. The sails, caught by the eddy-wind, were taken aback. In another moment we might have been driven, without power of saving ourselves, under that frowning cliff of ice. The storm raged above us—before us—behind us—on every side but there we lay, as if exhausted. Still the ship had way on her, and we continued our course. The channel was too narrow to allow the helm to be put up.

Just as she was losing her way, and would inevitably, through the force of the eddy-wind, have got stern-way on her, her headsails again felt the force of the gale, and, like a hound loosed from the leash, she started forward on her course. Again we were plunging madly through the wildly breaking seas; but the wind blew steadily, and the ice-fields widened away on either side till they were lost to view. Once again we were saved by a merciful Providence from an almost inevitable destruction. Still, we had some hours of darkness before us, and an unknown sea full of ice-islands through which we must pass. Not an eye was closed that night. Again we were close to one, but we were now better able to distinguish them than at first. This time we had to keep away, and run to the northward; but before long, there arose ahead of us a fourth iceberg. Again we sprung to the braces, the helm was put down, and, once more close-hauled, we weathered the danger.

Thus we hurried on—narrowly escaping danger after danger till daylight approached. Before, however, the sun arose, the gale fell; the clouds cleared away; and a bright gleam appeared in the eastern sky. Up shot the glorious sun, and never shall I forget the scene of gorgeous magnificence his bright rays lighted. Both sky and sea became of a deep blue—the water calm and clear as crystal—while all around us floated mountains of brilliant whiteness, like masses of the purest alabaster, of every varied form and size. Many were 200 feet high, and nearly a third of a mile in length. Some had perpendicular sides, with level summits—fit foundations, it might seem, for building cities of marble palaces, or fortresses for the kings of the East. Some, again, were broken into every fantastic form conceivable—towers and turrets, spires and minarets, domes and cupolas; here, the edifices found most commonly under the symbol of the crescent; there, those of the cross: Norman castles, Gothic cathedrals, Turkish mosques, Grecian temples, Chinese pagodas, were all here fully represented, and repeated in a thousand different ways. Others had been broken or melted into the forms of jagged cliffs, gigantic arches, lofty caverns, penetrating far away into the interior. Scarcely a shape which is to be found among the butting crags, sea-beat headlands, or mountain summits, in every part of the world, was not there represented in the most brilliant and purest of materials. Whole cities, too, were there to be seen pictured; squares and streets, and winding lanes, running up from the water’s edge, like a ruined Genoa, with marble palaces, and churches, and alabaster fountains, and huge piles of buildings of every possible form standing proudly up amid the ocean, the whole appearing like some scene of enchantment rather than a palpable reality. Here was seen a lofty mountain rent in two by some fierce convulsion of nature; there, a city overturned: here, rocks upheaved and scattered around in wild confusion; there, deep gorges, impenetrable ravines, and terrific precipices;—indeed, here Nature, in her wildest and most romantic forms, was fully represented. The beauty of the wondrous spectacle was heightened when the sun arose, from the varied gorgeous tints which flashed from mountain-top and beetling cliff, from tower, turret, and pinnacle, where its bright rays fell on them as they slowly moved round in their eccentric courses. No words, however, can describe the dazzling whiteness and brilliancy of the floating masses. From some of the most lofty, fountains might be seen gushing down, as from a mountain’s top when the fierce rays of the sun melt the long-hardened snow; while in and out of the deep caverns the sea-birds flew and screamed, peopling those dreary solitudes with joyous life.

The sun soon melted the ice from off our decks and rigging, and as we sailed onward the air became warm and genial. The most insensible of us could not but admire the scene; but Newman could scarcely repress his exclamations of delight and surprise. His sketch-book was brought out, and rapidly he committed to paper some of the most remarkable portions of the beautiful scene. Still, no pencil, no colours could represent the glorious, the magnificent tints in which the sea and sky, and the majestic varied-shaped icebergs, were bathed, as the sun, bursting forth from his ocean-bed, glided upwards in the eastern heavens. Numbers of birds came circling round the ship in their rapid flight, or were seen perched on the pinnacles of the bergs, or flying among their caverned recesses—albatrosses, snow-white petrels, penguins, and ducks of various sorts.

The albatross—Diomedea, as Newman called it—is the most powerful and largest of all aquatic birds. Its long hard beak is very strong, and of a pale yellow colour. The feet are webbed. I have seen some, the wings of which, when extended, measured fifteen feet from tip to tip, while they weighed upwards of twenty pounds. It feeds while on the wing, and is very voracious, pouncing down on any object which its piercing eye can discover in the water; and many a poor fellow, when swimming for his life, having fallen overboard, has been struck by one, and sunk to rise no more.

The snow-white petrel is a beautiful bird, and in its colours offers a strong contrast to the stormy petrel, (Thalassidroma), the chief part of whose plumage is of a sooty black, and others dark brown. Instead of being dreaded by seamen, it ought to be looked upon as their friend, for it seems to know long before they do when a storm is approaching, and by its piercing cry and mode of flight warns them of the coming danger. Seamen, however, instead of being grateful, like the world of old, the world at present, and the world as it ever will be, look upon these little prophets with dread and hatred, and in their ignorance and stupidity consider them the cause of the evil portended.

Penguins are found only in the Antarctic Ocean. They derive their name frompinguis, “fat,” they being noted for that quality. Their legs are placed so far back that, when on shore, they stand almost upright. Though on land their movements are very awkward, yet when in the water—which, more than the air, must be considered their natural element, as their wings are too small to allow them to fly—they are bold birds, and will bravely defend themselves or their young when attacked, and will advance on a retreating enemy.

We had not been long in these icy regions before we reaped an ample reward for all the dangers we had encountered. As we looked over the side, we observed the water full of animalcules, while vast quantities of shrimps of various sorts were seen in the neighbourhood of the icebergs; but what still more raised our hopes of finding whales, were the numbers of large squid, or cuttle-fish, on which, as I have said, they chiefly feed. We were watching a huge fellow floating near the ship, with outstretched tentaculae, of arms, extending an immense distance from his head, and with which he was dragging up into his voracious mouth thousands of animalculae every moment—and from his size he seemed capable of encircling the body of any unfortunate person he might find swimming—when the cry was heard from aloft of “There she, spouts—there she spouts!”

In an instant Newman’s lecture of natural history, which he was giving us, was brought to a conclusion. All hands were on deck, and four boats were manned and lowered, and pulled away after no less than three fine bull whales, which appeared at the same instant round the ship. There is a danger in attacking a whale near an iceberg which is avoided in the open sea. When he is fast, he may sound under it, and come up on the other side; but instinct warns him not to come up so as to strike his head against it.

Newman and I had already gone in the boats, and had proved ourselves no bad oarsmen on the occasion. He, indeed, had been allowed by the captain to use the harpoon when one of the officers was ill, and had succeeded in striking his first fish in a way which gained him much credit. On this occasion, however, we both remained on board.

Suddenly, not far from the ship, another whale rose to the surface, and, in a most extraordinary manner, began to turn, and twist, to throw half his huge bulk at a time out of the water, and furiously to lash it with his tail till he was surrounded with a mass of foam. The boats were in another direction, or we should have thought he had been wounded, and had a lance or harpoon sticking in him, from which he was endeavouring to free himself. He swam on, however, and approached the ship, still continuing his extraordinary contortions. As he drew near, he lifted his enormous head out of the water, when we saw hanging to his lower jaw a large fish, twenty feet long or so, from which he was thus in vain endeavouring to free himself! We had no little cause to be alarmed, as he drew near, for the safety of the ship herself; for, in the blindness of his agony, he might unintentionally strike her, or he might rush against her side to get rid of his pertinacious enemy. More than once the whale threw himself completely out of the water; but the fish still hung on to his bleeding jaw. Together they fell again into the sea, while all around them was stained of a crimson hue from the blood so copiously flowing from the worried monster.

“That’s a killer!” cried old Tom. “He’ll not let go the whale till he has him in his flurry, and then he and his mates will make a feast of him. They have great strong teeth, bigger than a shark’s, and are the most voracious fish I ever saw. They bait a whale just as dogs do a wild beast, or a bull, and seldom fail to kill him if they once get hold of him.”

This killer had a long dorsal fin, and a brown back and white belly. On came the whale and the fish, twisting and turning as before. We all stood ready to try and send them off—though very little use that would have been, I own. Happily they floundered by just astern of the ship; but so violent were their movements, and by such a mass of foam and blood were they surrounded, that it was difficult to observe the appearance of the killer. Equally impossible would it have been to have approached the whale to harpoon him without an almost certainty of losing the boat and the lives of all her crew. We could, therefore, only hope that the whale might be conquered when still within sight, so that the boats might carry off the prize from the relentless killer. Away went the monster and his tormentor. Soon we could no longer distinguish them from the deck; but on going aloft, we again caught sight of them, still floundering on as before.

“That fish gives us a lesson of what pertinacity will accomplish, even in conquering the greatest of difficulties,” observed Newman, laughing. “I admire the way in which he sticks to his object. He has made up his mind to kill the whale, and kill the whale he will.”

“Ay, and eat him too, Ned, as he deserves,” said old Knowles. “Some of us might learn a lesson from that fish, I’m thinking.”

“I have been killing whales all my life,” Newman remarked to me with a forced laugh. “But somehow or other, Jack, I never have found out how to eat them.”

“Overcoming difficulties, but not benefiting by them!” said I. “There must be a fault somewhere.”

“Ay, Jack, ay—a fault in myself, and a curse well-deserved,” he answered, bitterly, and then was silent. I never before had heard him speak in that way, and I did not venture to ask for an explanation.

That saying of Newman became common ever afterwards on board, when we saw a man determined to do a thing—“Kill the whale he will!”

I have often thought since, how seldom sailors, especially, learn to eat whales. What sums of money they make and throw carelessly away!—amply sufficient to enable them to pass the end of their days in comfort on shore, or to provide respectably for their families, instead, as is often the case with the merchant-seaman, ending their days in a poor-house, or leaving their families to the cold charity of the world. Brother seamen, learn wisdom! Prepare for the future of this life; and, more than all, prepare for the life to come.

Two of the whales chased were captured and brought alongside, when we set to work to cut-in and try-out with all the rapidity we could exert. In those high southern latitudes the weather is very variable, and we knew that a change might come and deprive us of our prey. We were, however, fortunate in securing both whales, and between them they gave us one hundred and sixty barrels of fine oil. Before, however, the boats had returned with their prizes, the whale and the killer had got far out of sight even from the mast-head. We continued for some time fishing in those quarters, amply rewarded for the dangers we had encountered by the success we met with. Sometimes, however, we were days and days together without even seeing a whale; and several were lost, after chasing them with much toil and difficulty.

Newman contributed much all the time to keep the people in good humour, by always finding them employment; and Captain Carr, unlike some masters I have met with, afforded him every assistance in his plans. Among other things, he established regular classes below, and, with the exception of one or two very idle, stupid fellows, all the crew belonged to one or other of them. Besides a reading and writing class, he had an arithmetic and geography class, and a music and a drawing class. His singing class was the most numerous, and he very soon taught nearly all hands to sing together in admirable tune and time. I at first exclusively attended the reading and writing class, devoting every moment I was off duty to my books; so that, much to my own surprise and delight, I soon found that I could read with ease and satisfaction. Writing was a more difficult task: to one whose fingers had never been accustomed to the cramped position required for holding a pen. Still, Newman had a way of overcoming that difficulty. Making me throw the weight of my body on my left side, he left my right hand and fingers free, and kept me for some time with a dry pen simply moving up and down across the page. Even when I had begun to form letters, at the commencement of every lesson he made me follow this plan for a few minutes, that, as he said, I might get my fingers into training before I disfigured the paper and became disgusted with my own performance. He himself seemed never to grow weary of teaching. No ignorance or stupidity daunted him; and it used to surprise me that a man of such extensive information and extraordinary talents, should take the trouble of imparting knowledge to people who were so immeasurably his inferiors. I used to observe, from the first, that he was never for a moment idle. “Ned must always be doing something or other,” old Tom observed of him. “It’s all the better for him that he is afloat. If he were on shore, he would be doing mischief.” His great object seemed to be to fly from himself. Sometimes, when I was talking with him, from the strangeness of his remarks, and from his bursts of feeling, I thought that there must be a touch of madness about him; but then, again, immediately afterwards, he would say something so full of thought and sense, that I banished the idea.

To me he proved the greatest blessing. I was becoming a new character. I had discovered powers within me of which I before had no conception. I had gone on through life, if not rejoicing in my ignorance, at least indifferent to it. I had picked up a certain amount of knowledge from the conversation of others, but it was ill-digested, and I was full of the grossest prejudices. I have scarcely, indeed, given a correct notion of what I was up to this time. I might describe myself just as I once heard a shipmate spoken of—asjust an ignorant common sailor. Such I had been. I could now read. I could dive into the rich stores collected by other minds, and make them my own. Without robbing others, I could appropriate their wealth, and enjoy all the benefits it could afford. Once having begun to read, the taste grew on me. I read through and through every book Newman possessed.

After a time, as his talents came to be known and appreciated by the captain, and officers, and surgeon, he was able to borrow books from them, which he allowed me to read. Although not many of them were very enlightening, they served to show me my own ignorance from the allusions they made, which I was totally unable to comprehend; and this only made me desire to gain further information, which it was somewhat difficult to obtain. As to Newman himself, he literally devoured every book which came in his way. He soon read through every book to be found on board; and whenever we fell in with another ship, he used to borrow all he could, or exchange his own books for others. Unfortunately, the literature in those days to be found at sea was generally of a very inferior character, and not at all calculated to improve its readers. Still, some knowledge was gleaned from all but the worst, and some errors and prejudices corrected. Newman had, however, certain favourites among his books, both English and foreign, which he would on no account have parted with. These he used frequently to read to me in our spare hours, or when we were engaged in such work as required our hands alone to be employed. I observed, indeed, after a little time, that we had far less employment found for us than had been the case in other ships on board which I had served; and this, I suspect, was because we found it for ourselves, or rather Newman found it for us. I never met with men so contented and happy as we all became; and this I could only account for by supposing that we were interested in our various occupations.

Newman was also the great peacemaker on board. Whenever a dispute arose, he always inquired the point at issue, and, without allowing time for the temper of either party to become irritated, he generally contrived to settle the matter. If he could not manage that, he used to try and raise a laugh by some absurd observation, or would place the position assumed by one man or the other in so ridiculous a light, that he seldom failed to show him that he was wrong.

One thing I remarked about Newman was, that he never alluded to any religious subject. I never saw him pray. He had no Bible or Prayer-book with him. I never heard him give utterance to a sentiment of piety, or of trust in God’s mercy or fear of his anger. I did, on the contrary, frequently hear him praise the Greek and Roman philosophers of old, and he often spoke of the stoicism and heroism of the heathens. Still he neither blasphemed, nor cursed, nor swore, nor did he ever attempt to instil any infidel notions into the minds of any of us. However, I fear that he was, to all intents and purposes, a heathen. I doubt, indeed, whether he ever had any religion. I suspect that he was brought up without any; and that at no time, during the period he was gaining his education, did he meet with anyone to instruct him. I could not even then help contrasting the confiding piety and true religion of my old shipmates, Peter Poplar and Captain Gale, with the entire want of it which he displayed.

Indeed, Captain Carr, though a kind and worthy man, and a good sailor, was sadly unenlightened as to the truth; and all the years I served with him we neither had prayers nor any religious observance whatever on board. On a Sunday, if the weather was fine, and no whales were in sight, we put on clean clothes, mended and washed our old ones, and had an additional glass of grog served out, with less work than usual given us to do. On board most South-Seamen every day in the week was much the same. It was a fact, I fear, and one painful to contemplate, that Newman, with all his great and varied talents, lived on as if there were no God in the world. I do not mention this without a purpose. It seems strange that it was from such a man I received the instruction which enabled me ultimately to attain to a knowledge of, and active belief in, the truth. It shows by what varied instruments God works to bring about his gracious purposes. It convinced me of the power and effect of grace. Here was I, sunk deep myself in ignorance, and living among those who were equally unaware of the truth, called out of darkness into His marvellous light. But I am anticipating events.

We continued cruising near the Antarctic Circle during the few short months of summer with unvaried success. We had frequent displays at night of the Aurora Australis. Sometimes the whole southern hemisphere would be covered with arches of a beautiful straw-colour, from which streamers would radiate, both upwards and downwards, of a pure glittering white. The stars would be glittering brightly overhead; while, from east-south-east to west-north-west, a number of concentric arches would appear, forming a complete canopy in the sky; then suddenly they would vanish, again shortly to appear. Some nights it appeared in the form of cumuli, tinged with pale yellow; and behind them arose brilliant red, purple, orange, and yellow tints, streaming upwards in innumerable radiations, with every combination of shade which these colours could produce. Another night we saw a bright crescent, and from it feathery-edged rays, of a pale orange colour, branched off in every direction, while across it a succession of the prismatic colours appeared rapidly to flit. Indeed, it is difficult to describe the various forms which the Aurora assumes.

One of the most curious sights I ever beheld we witnessed some time after this. It was the appearance of the sun and moon above the horizon at the same time: the moon, which was nearly full, throwing her light—stolen from the sun, which blazed forth at the same time—on the world of icebergs. It was as if we had been looking on two distinct scenes. On one side, the bright rays of the luminary of day were throwing a golden hue on the vast mountain masses of ice which floated on the blue waters; on the other, the pale orb of night cast a silvery fringe on the clouds which surrounded it. There was, indeed, no night; the binnacle-lamp was not even lighted; and we were able to continue, without cessation, trying-out a whale, whose carcase floated alongside. Among other curious things I observed, were large masses of rock—boulders they are called—embedded in the base and centre of icebergs. It shows that they must originally have been formed on shore, and then floated away by some unusually high-tide or commotion of the sea. It explains also the appearance of boulders in places where it would be difficult otherwise to account for their being found.

I have seen birds in great numbers on rocks in the ocean, in different parts of the globe, but never have I beheld so many as there were on an island we one day sighted before steering north. There was but little wind, and as the captain thought a supply of birds, although of a somewhat fishy taste, would be an acceptable addition to our daily fare of salt junk and salt pork, he directed the third mate, with Newman, me, and four other men, to take a boat and bring off as many as we could kill. Calm as it was, the surf rolled so heavily in on the rocks that it was a work of no little difficulty and danger to approach them so as to gain a footing out of the reach of the waves. The mate ordered an anchor to be let go, and, veering away on the cable, we dropped gradually in; and while, boat-hook in hand, one at a time leaped on shore, the boat-keepers with their oars kept the boat head to sea, and as soon as we had landed, which we did not succeed in doing without a thorough ducking, they hauled the boat off beyond the breakers.

The island on which we stood was a wild, desolate place. Not a tree or a shrub was to be seen; but the hills, which rose to a considerable height above the ocean, were covered with a long thick grass, of a character similar to what grows on the Falkland Islands. Here and there dark rocks cropped out, and the sides of the island were formed in many parts of lofty, precipitous cliffs; while in others, such as the place we had landed on, were rugged rocks sloping gradually down to the sea. A thick fringe of kelp, a slippery sort of sea-weed, added somewhat to the difficulties of our landing. As we advanced, we were assailed by the most frightful gabbling, and screeching, and quacking I ever heard, from thousands and thousands of wild-fowls, chiefly penguins of various species. The whole hillside was literally covered with them and their eggs in dense masses. Nothing daunted at our appearance, when they found that the hubbub they made could not compel us to retreat, they commenced a fierce attack on us with their beaks, pulling at our trousers and pecking at our flesh. In our own defence we were obliged to lay about us with the boat’s stretchers, and to knock them right and left on the head. Some, however, took warning from the fate of their companions; but while those at a distance gabbled and screeched louder than ever, those in the front waddled boldly up to the assault. As far as we could judge, we must have slaughtered the whole colony, or been pecked to death by them if we had attempted to sit down to rest. Every inch of their native soil, like true patriots, they bravely disputed with us; and when any of us, for fun, retreated, to see what they would do, they advanced erect and determined, rolling their heads from side to side in the most comical way, their power of vision residing only in the lower part of each eye. Then they would throw their heads backwards, and utter sounds very like the braying of a jackass; from which circumstance they have been called the Jackass Penguins. All the time, their little wings were actively employed as legs to expedite their movements. When in the water, they use their wings as fins to dive. When they rise again after a dive, they come up with so sudden a dash, instantly being down again, that it is often difficult to say whether they are fish or fowl. The most acceptable part of the spoils were their eggs, which we picked up in great quantities, and stowed away for safety in our caps and hats. Newman and I being in advance of the party, came upon a large rock, on and about which were perched a number of much larger birds than those we had seen below. They sat quietly looking at us till we approached, and then they commenced scolding us as the others had done. They appeared to be arranged in the most perfect order, in ranks like those of an army, each class being by themselves. In one place were hen-birds sitting on their eggs; in another, the mother-birds tending their newly-hatched young; while their mates were away over the ocean fishing for their dinners—a labour in which the hens very soon assist their partners. The moulting birds sit by themselves; and the bachelors, I conclude, have also to dwell in solitude. When we frightened the sitting-hens, we observed that they had a peculiar way of lifting up their eggs between their legs, and waddling off with them. These birds which were much larger than those seen below, are called King Penguins. We each carried off one over our shoulders as trophies.

After we left the ship, another boat was lowered to attack some sea-lions, which had been observed on a rock a little way off. We saw our shipmates commencing the attack as we went up the hill. Several were harpooned. One huge monster, notwithstanding a severe wound, managed to make his escape. As we returned down the hill, we found ourselves at the edge of a deep gully, into which the sea dashed, leaping up on either side, but leaving in the centre a space of comparatively clear water. As we looked down into it, we saw it curiously disturbed, and soon there rose to the surface two monsters, which seemed to be attacking each other with the greatest fury. We could have no doubt that they were sea-lions; and from the blood which flowed from the neck of one of them, we guessed that he was the one we had seen wounded. No animals on shore could have fought more desperately, although their teeth alone could be used as weapons of assault. They swam at each other, seizing each other’s snouts, and fins, and lips, and struggled, and turned, and floundered about, till a big sea rushing up, carried both of them out of our sight.

“Such are human combats,” observed Newman, with one of his peculiar laughs. “The sharks or the birds of prey will alone benefit by their folly.”

While we were speaking, we saw several huge albatrosses flying, at the speed almost of lightning, towards the island. Instantly they pounced down on some of the birds we had killed; but finding that they had not yet a sufficiently high flavour to suit their palates, they picked up some of the eggs which we had compelled the jackass penguins to desert, and flew off with them, it was impossible to say where. We returned to the ship with a boat-load of birds and eggs, but not without a thorough ducking.

While I am on the subject of natural history, I will describe another species of seal, which we found on some islands on which we landed. We went on shore, as we had before done, armed with clubs and lances, to capture some of them. It required a knowledge of their inert and slothful character to give us courage to attack them with the weapons which we possessed, for in size and appearance they were most formidable-looking monsters. They were from twenty-five to thirty feet long, and some eighteen feet in circumference. Their heads are armed with large tusks and formidable teeth, and the male has the power of elongating the upper lip into the form of a proboscis, from which circumstance they are called sea-elephants. They are only found in those regions in the summer, as they migrate into warmer latitudes in the winter. We very quickly dispatched a number of them with blows on the head, and then towed them off to the ship, where each produced some eighty gallons of oil. Their skins also, which are of great use for many purposes, were preserved.

The nights were again shortening, when, just before dark, it came on to blow hard. Sail was taken off the ship, and those with the best eyes on board were stationed on each bow and at the bowsprit-end, to give notice of any dangers in sight. We were standing to the westward, going free, our captain intending soon to haul up for the northward. It was the darkest part of the still short night, when the lookers-out ahead gave notice that they heard the crashing sound of ice grinding together. Directly afterwards the words “Ice ahead!” echoed along the deck. Immediately the starboard tacks were hauled aboard, and the ship was kept to the northward.

Again the startling cry was heard, “Ice on the lee-bow!” then “Ice ahead!” The ship had good way on her. The helm was put down. We flew to the tacks and sheets, and about she came, her counter actually grazing a sheet of ice, against which in another moment she would have struck! We could now only steer to the southward, where we knew more ice must be found, so that we must speedily be about again. It was necessary to keep sufficient sail on the ship to enable us to work her quickly.

On we stood into the darkness, with a knowledge that danger was ahead of us. “Ice! ice ahead!” was again the cry. We wore about, but just in time to escape contact with it. We could not tell all the time whether the ice-fields might not be closing on us. Every tack we made was shorter and shorter. Still, our only hope was to beat out of the narrow passage into which the ship had run.

Many tacks were made. A huge iceberg, dimly glimmering through the obscurity, towered up before us; yet, though dim, not the less terrific. The helm was put down. There might be space between it and the field-ice to the southward of it. The southern field hove in sight; we tacked, but just in time. Then on we rushed towards the iceberg, beating closely into the wind. Again it appeared on our lee-bow; the ship heeled over to the breeze. On we rushed—a flaw of wind heading us would send us to destruction. The wind held steady.

On, on we rushed, the foam flying over our bows and freezing as it fell. A towering cliff of ice appeared over our mast-heads—still we hurried on. There was a loud thundering clash. The stoutest held their breath for fear. Our deck was deluged with spray. Several quickly-following seas struck our stern, lifting the ship before them. The summit of the vast iceberg had fallen—perhaps by the concussion of the air as we moved under it. A moment later, and we should have been crushed to atoms—driven far, far down into the depths of the ocean! The iceberg was passed. It seemed to be guarding the portals of that narrow inlet. As the dawn came on, we could discover the ice trending away to leeward. All day we stood on, gradually increasing our distance from icebergs and fields of ice, till we had, to our no little satisfaction, left them far astern.

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