e nearest land.
It's going to be a dirty night, too."

"Did you want us to put a reef in, sir?" asked the old whaler.

"When I want a sail reefed," the captain answered shortly, "I'll tell
you."

As the mast fell into place and the sail was hoisted, the whale-boat
heeled sharply over and began to cut her way through the water at a good
speed, leaving the two prams far in the rear. The captain, who was
steering mechanically, paid no heed to them, staring moodily ahead into
the darkness. Hank looked around uneasily from time to time, then in a
few moments he spoke.

"The mate's signaling, I think, sir," he said.

Colin looked round but could only just see the outline of the larger of
the two boats, and knew it was too dark to distinguish any motions on
board her. He looked inquiringly at Hank, but the old gunner was
watching the captain.

"What does he want?" questioned the captain angrily.

"Orders, sir, I suppose," the whaler answered.

The captain felt the implied rebuke and looked at him sharply, but
although he was a strict disciplinarian, he knew Hank's worth as a
seaman of experience and kept back the sharp reply which was upon his
lips. Then turning in his seat he realized how rapidly they had sped
away from the boats they were escorting, and said:

"I'll bring her up."

He put the tiller over and brought the whale-boat up into the wind, and
in a few minutes the mate's boat and the smaller pram came alongside.

"Don't you want us to keep together, sir?" cried the mate as soon as he
was within hearing.

"Of course," the captain answered. "You can't keep up, eh?"

"Not in a breeze like this, sir," the mate declared.

"All right, then," was the response; "we'll reef." He nodded to the
gunner and the reef points were quickly tied, thus enabling the three
boats to keep together.

As the night wore on the wind increased until quite a gale was blowing,
and the whale-boat began to plunge into the seas, throwing spray every
time her nose went into it. The oilskins shone yellow and dripping in
the feeble light of a lantern and although it was nearly the end of June
a cold wind whipped the icy spume-drift from the breaking whitecaps.

"Doesn't feel much like summer, Hank!" said Colin, shivering from cold
and fatigue, also partly from reaction following his exciting adventure
with the gray whale.

"Behring Sea hasn't got much summer to boast of," the old whaler
replied; "leastwise not often. You may get