leaping up and twirling
in their mad dance, but none forming the threatening aspect of that
which the bark's gun had burst. In half an hour the sun was out and I
dared spread a whisp of sail and ran down to hail the bark.

I saw the crew crowding to the rail. There was a large number for even a
sailing vessel of these times, and I more than half suspected the nature
of her business before a rope ladder was let down to me and I scrambled
up the tall side of the craft with the bight of my sloop's painter over
my shoulder and saw the "nests" of boats stowed amidships.

"I say, young fellow!" was the greeting I received from a smart looking
youngster--not much older than myself--who welcomed me at the rail "is
that your whale?"

"If 'findings is keepings' it is surely mine," I said. "But I didn't
kill it, and now I've got a leg over your rail I'll give you all my
title and share in the beast."

"Good luck, boys!" rumbled a bewhiskered old barnacle who stood behind
the young officer of the bark, "We've struck ile before we're a week
out o' Bedford."

As I say, without these words I could have been sure that the bark was a
whaler. She was the Scarboro Captain Hiram Rogers, and just beginning
her voyage for the South Seas. The Greenland, or right whale, is no
longer plentiful, but the cachelot and other species have become
wonderfully common of late years. This fact has drawn capital to the
business of whaling once more, and although steam has for the most part
supplanted sails, and the gun and explosive bullet serve the office
formerly held by the harpoon and the lance, more than a few of the old
whale-fishing fleet have come into their own again.

For the Scarboro was built in the thirties of the last century; but so
well did those old Yankee boat builders construct the barks meant for
the fishing trade--for they were expected to stand many a tight
_squeeze_ in the ice as well as a possible head-on collision with a mad
whale--that their length of life, and of usefulness, is phenomenal. At
least, the Scarboro looked to be a most staunch and seaworthy craft.

The young fellow who had hailed me was Second Mate Gibson, nephew of the
captain and, I very soon discovered, possessed of little more practical
knowledge of sea-going and seamanship than myself. But he was a brisk,
cheerful, educated fellow and being merely the captain's lieutenant over
the watch got along very well. He expected to study navigation with his
uncl