ve. Now, this is
something like!"

"Foolishness I calls it," put in one of the younger sailors. "Why don't
the skipper put in somewhere an' get the gun put to rights? An' Hank is
just as likely to fix that gun so as he'll blow some of us up with it
when he does get it goin'."

"Always croakin', Gloomy," said the old gunner. "Blowin' you up would be
no great loss. You'd ought to be glad to see what whalin' was like when
your betters was at it."

"I'm glad," said Colin, as he pulled steadily at his long oar, "that we
did wrench the gun-frame when that heavy sea came aboard."

"I don't see it," said the gunner; "mebbe you'll think presently that
you'd ha' done better to be satisfied with readin' about whalin' in
those books of yours."

"Well, it got me the chance to see the fun!" responded Colin.

"That wouldn't have been enough to start this business a-goin' if it
hadn't been that the _Gull_ was an old whalin'-ship before they put
steam into her. The little bits of whalin'-steamers they build now only
carry a little pram or two, nothin' like this boat you're in now. The
_Gull's_ one of the old-timers."

"She hails from New Bedford, doesn't she?"

"She took the Indian Ocean whalin' in the sixties an' came round the
Horn every season in the seventies," Hank replied; "an' there's not
many of her build left. Easy with that oar, Gloomy," he added, speaking
to the melancholy sailor, who was splashing a good deal in his stroke,
"an' avast talkin', all."

Swiftly, but with oars dipping almost noiselessly, the boat slipped up
to where the two whales were floating whose spouts had been seen from
the ship. The sea was tinged with pink from the masses of shrimp-food
which had attracted the whales, and the great creatures were feeding
quietly. The surface was not rough, but there was a long, slow roll
which tossed the boat about like a cork. Presently Hank, who was in the
stern, held up one hand.

"Hold your starboard oars," he said quietly; "we'll back up to this
largest one."

This near approach to the whales was too much for Gloomy's nerves.
Instead of merely holding his long sweep steady in the water so that the
stroke of the port oars would bring the boat around, he tried to make a
long backward drive. As he reached back, the boat mounted sidewise on a
swell, leaving Gloomy clawing at the air with his oar; then, the boat as
suddenly swooped down with a rush, burying the oar almost to the
row-locks; it caught Gloomy