John Harris said 'e thowt 't was a bird. Then another man (Moffis
'e's name was) started off wi' what they calls a gaff ('t is somethun
like a short boat-hook), over the bows, an' run; an' we sid un
strike, an' strike, an' we hard it go wump! wump! an' the cry goun
up so tarrible feelun, seemed as ef 'e was murderun some poor wild
Inden child 'e 'd a-found (on'y mubbe 'e would n' do so bad as
that: but there 've a-been tarrible bloody, cruel work wi' Indens
in my time), an' then 'e comed back wi' a white-coat[5] over 'e's
shoulder; an' the poor thing was n' dead, but cried an' soughed
like any poor little babby."

[Footnote 5: A young seal.]

The young wife was very restless at this point, and, though she
did not look up, I saw her tears. The stout fisherman smoothed out
the net a little upon his knee, and drew it in closer, and heaved
a great sigh: he did not look at his hearers.

"When 'e throwed it down, it walloped, an' cried, an' soughed,--an'
its poor eyes blinded wi' blood! ('Ee sees, Sir," said the planter,
by way of excusing his tenderness, "they swiles were friends to
I, after.) Dear, O dear! I could n' stand it; for 'e _might_ ha'
killed un; an' so 'e goes for a quart o' rum, for fetchun first
swile, an' I went an' put the poor thing out o' pain. I did n'
want to look at they beautiful islands no more, somehow. Bumby it
comed on thick, an' then snow.

"Nex' day swiles bawlun[6] every way, poor things! (I knowed their
voice, now,) but 't was blowun a gale o' wind, an' we under bare
poles, an' snow comun agen, so fast as ever it could come: but out
the men 'ould go, all mad like, an' my watch goed, an' so I mus'
go. (I did n' think what I was goun to!) The skipper never said
no; but to keep near the schooner, an' fetch in first we could,
close by; an' keep near the schooner.

[Footnote 6: Technical word for the crying of the seals.]

"So we got abroad, an' the men that was wi' me jes' began to knock
right an' left: 't was heartless to see an' hear it. They laved
two old uns an' a young whelp to me, as they runned by. The mother
did cry like a Christen, in a manner, an' the big tears 'ould run
down, an' they 'ould both be so brave for the poor whelp that 'ould
cuddle up an' cry; an' the mother looked this way an' that way,
wi' big, pooty, black eyes, to see what was the manun of it, when
they'd never doned any harm in God's world that 'E made, an' would
n', even ef you killed 'em: on'y the poor mother