ankful that I had been picked up; yet if the weather settled I might
have safely made my way back home in the Wavecrest. And it was easy to
see that the skipper of the Scarboro considered the sloop his property
in return for taking me aboard.

The lanky captain of the whale ship was not a person to argue with. I
knew it would be useless to bandy words with him. Even his nephew
plainly showed that he considered it wise to drop the matter of the dead
whale right there and then--before the captain at least. He grumbled a
bit about the loss of this first chance for oil when we went to
breakfast, however. Apropos of which, and while we discussed the good
breakfast that was put before us, Ben Gibson repeated for my
delectation the famous whaling story--a classic in its way--wherein the
Yankee skipper and the Yankee mate differ as to the advisability of
chasing a cachelot. Some version of this tale is known to every whaler
and I preserve Ben's story, as he told it, imitating the Down East twang
as well as I may:

"Forty-two days aout, an' not a drop o' ile in the tanks. I went
for'ard. The lookaout he hailed. 'On deck, sir,' says he, 'thar she
blaows.'

"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she blaows; shall I lower?'

"Cap'n Symes he gin a look to wind'ard. 'Mr. Symes,' says he, ('Twas
cur'ous, his name was Cap'n Symes, an' my name was Mister Symes, but we
warn't neither kith nor kin), 'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'it's a-bloawin'
right smart peart, an' I don't see fitten for to lower.'

"I went for'ard. The lookaout hailed again. 'On deck, sir,' says he,
'thar she blaows _an'_ spouts.'

"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she blaows _an'_ spouts. Shall
I lower?'

"Cap'n Symes he casts an eye aloft. 'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'it's a
bloawin' right smart peart, and I don't see fitten for to lower.'

"I went for'ard. The lookaout he hailed again. 'On deck, sir,' says he,
'thar she blaows, an' spouts, an' breaches.'

"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she bloaws, an' spouts, an'
breaches. Shall I lower?'

"Cap'n Symes he took a look at the clouds that was a-scuddin' acrosst.
'Mr. Symes,' says he, 'it's a-bloawin' right smart peart, an' I don't
see fitten for to lower.'

"I went for'ard. The lookaout he hailed again. 'On deck, sir,' says he,
'thar she blaows, an' spouts, an' breaches, an' it's a right smart
sperm, too.'

"I went aft. 'Cap'n Symes,' says I, 'thar she bloaws, an' spouts, an'
breaches, _an'_ it