was agony
to his aching bones, and the rough service she was proceeding on would
hardly have suited one in his crippled state, must surely have experienced
some regret in thus deserting the whaler, from whose decks he had
witnessed so many gallant contests with the oleaginous monster of the
deep. Whaling is indeed a glorious sport, as far superior to your salmon
fishing and fox hunting, as those diversions are to bobbing for gudgeon
and chasing rats with a terrier. And whilst the excitement it occasions
must, we apprehend, be the strongest possible to be known, short of that
of the battle-field, it has the advantage of being much less dangerous
than it looks. The ideas suggested to a landsman by the description of an
attack on a whale, are those of extreme peril to all engaged in it, a
peril from which the chances against their escaping alive are at least ten
to one. A few hardy fellows pull up to a creature that looks like a small
island on the surface of the sea, and one sweep of whose tail or flukes is
sufficient to knock their frail bark into splinters; they dash their
harpoons into his huge flanks, and submit to be towed through the waves by
the maddened monster at a rate that makes the water boil round their bows.
Such is the power of the fish, that if he came in contact with a ship,
during his headlong course, his weight and impetus would stave in her
sides. Sometimes he runs straightforward; at others in circles, with
irregular rapidity. Still the boat sticks to him, until the smart of his
hurt subsiding, or through fatigue, he slackens his speed, enabling his
enemies to approach and to pierce him with fresh wounds. At last, when the
waters around are reddened with his blood, comes the death-flurry. "Stern
all!" The boats stand clear, and the fish disappears in the cloud of spray
that he, dashes up in his dying agonies. His flukes quiver, he plunges
heavily, and all is over. Perhaps, and this frequently happens, in the
course of the contest a boat has been cut in two, or so far damaged as to
fill and sink. But the crew are seldom lost. They support themselves by
aid of the oars, until their comrades pick them up. Whaling seamen are
paid by shares in the profits of the voyage, which arrangement of course
contributes to render them zealous and daring.

Such are the scenes described in the early part of Dr Coulter's book,
some of them with tolerable spirit. The whale captured, next comes the
cutting in and boiling o