and as
Watty thrust out his face again grinning, it was into another so fierce
and horrible-looking that he stood for a moment petrified, and then
uttered a loud yell, darted back, and slammed to the door.

Steve felt better after that, and hurriedly returned the bear's head
prior to seeing about breakfast, for another odour saluted his nostrils,
that of frizzling bacon--so suggestive a smell to a hungry lad that he
made for the cabin at once, to find the captain, Mr Lowe, and Mr
Handscombe just gathered for their morning meal.

The breakfast was hardly over when there was a hail from aloft, where
Andrew McByle was occupying the crow's-nest.

"There she spouts!" he cried; and Steve was the first on deck to see the
whale, for he knew the meaning of the sailor's cry.

Running to the main-mast he mounted the shrouds for some twenty feet,
and then, with his arm thrust through the ratlines and embracing one of
the taut stays of the mast, he stood gazing in astonishment at the sight
before him. For he had hurried on deck fully expecting to see one of
the great dark Greenland whales diving down after food, coming to the
surface again to blow, and then throw its flukes high in the air with a
flourish as it dived once more. But, instead of a single whale, the sea
appeared to be alive with them, playing about in the water, gambolling
on the surface or diving under. Then they were up again, making the sea
foam as they flourished their tails, uttered a strange, faint, snorting
sound as they blew and whistled, and dived down once more. But it was
not playing, for they were in chase of an enormous shoal of small fish,
upon which they were feasting.

There was quite an excitement amongst the men, who, without waiting for
orders, saw to the tackle in the boats, Johannes and Petersen hastening
to add white whale harpoons to the rest of the implements.

"Well, Steve, my lad," cried the doctor, "what do you think of the
shoal? You ought to have brought your fishing-rod and line."

"Nonsense!" said the lad shortly; "but I say, Mr Handscombe, you don't
call these whales?"

"What, then, my lad? They're white whales."

"Young ones? Then that's why they are white."

"No, my lad, old ones. Look; plenty of them have got their two young
ones with them."

"Oh, but surely these are not full-grown whales! Why, the biggest can't
be sixteen feet long."

"Quite right; about fourteen, I should say. Come down; you'll want to
go i