ok hands and turned to help Mrs. Sackett over the rail. Then came
Miss Jennie, and last of all our captain.

Jackwell sprang up the ladder quickly, and stood in the gangway.

"How are you, sir, Captain Thomp--"

Captain Henry checked himself, looking at our skipper as though he had
seen a ghost.

"Why, Jack--"

But Jackwell had put up his hand, smiling pleasantly.

"Jack it is, old man. You haven't forgotten the time I picked you up on
the beach, have you?" he said, laughing. "Mrs. Sackett," he cried,
turning, "allow me to introduce my friend, Captain Henry. Miss Sackett,
also. Here's a skipper who hasn't forgotten the day I pulled him out of
the water on the coast of South Wales, where he was wrecked. Sink me, but
it's a blessing to see gratitude," he cried again, laughing heartily.
"Fancy one skipper pulling another out of the sea, hey? Can you do that?"

"Well, I want to know," replied Henry. "I never knew you was a--"

"You never knew what, old man? What is it ye never knew? Sink me, it
would fill every barrel you have below, hey? wouldn't it? What you never
knew, nor never will know, would fill your little ship so full she'd
sink, Henry, or I'm a soger. Ha, ha, hah! my boy; I don't mean to cast no
insinuations at you, but that's a fact, ain't it? But what the dickens
have you got going on aboard?"

He turned and gazed at the brig's main deck, where tubs of water and
soapsuds were being poured into the trying-out kettles built in the
brig's waist.

"Why," said Henry, "since you are a sea-capting, you must know the lay of
it. Hain't you never crossed the line in a sailin' ship before?"

He had apparently recovered himself, and the surprise at meeting an old
acquaintance appeared to give him pleasure.

Taking Mrs. Sackett by the hand, he led her aft up the poop steps,
Jackwell following, keeping up a continual talk about whales and
whaling skippers. Jennie and I followed behind and examined the brig's
strange outfit.

The first mate, a man of middle age, lean and gaunt, came forward and
introduced himself. He had sailed in every kind of ship, and was now
whaling, he declared, for the last time. As I had made several "last
voyages" myself, I knew that he meant simply to show involuntarily that
he was a confirmed sailor of the most pronounced sort.

He showed us the lines and irons, the cutting-in outfit, and the kettles
and furnace for boiling down the blubber. We followed him about, and I
expressed my