ich the
heart of a jack-tar is made to rejoice when he is out on a long voyage.
His pleasures and amusements are so few that he is thankful to make the
most of whatever is thrown in his way. In the whale-fisheries, no
doubt, he has more than enough of excitement, but after a time he gets
used to this, and begins to long for a little variety--and of all the
pleasures that fall to his lot, that which delights him most is to have
a gam with another ship.

Now, a gam is the meeting of two or more whale-ships, their keeping
company for a time, and the exchanging of visits by the crews. It is
neither more nor less than a jollification on the sea,--the inviting of
your friends to feast and make merry in your floating house. There is
this difference, however, between a gam at sea and a party on land, that
your _friends_ on the ocean are men whom you perhaps never saw before,
and whom you will likely never meet again. There is also another
difference--there are no ladies at a gam. This is a great want, for man
is but a rugged creature when away from the refining influence of woman;
but, in the circumstances, of course, it can't be helped.

We had a gam one day, on this voyage, with a Yankee whale-ship, and a
first-rate gam it was, for, as the Yankee had gammed three days before
with another English ship, we got a lot of news second-hand; and, as we
had not seen a new face for many months, we felt towards those Yankees
like brothers, and swallowed all they had to tell us like men starving
for news.

It was on a fine calm morning, just after breakfast, that we fell in
with this ship. We had seen no whales for a day or two, but we did not
mind that, for our hold was almost full of oil-barrels. Tom Lokins and
I were leaning over the starboard bulwarks, watching the small fish that
every now and then darted through the clear-blue water like arrows, and
smoking our pipes in silence. Tom looked uncommonly grave, and I knew
that he was having some deep and knowing thoughts of his own, which
would leak out in time. All at once he took his pipe from his mouth and
stared earnestly at the horizon.

"Bob," said he, speaking very slowly, "if there ain't a ship right off
the starboard beam, I'm a Dutchman."

"You don't mean it!" said I, starting with a feeling of excitement.

Before another word could be uttered, the cry of "Sail ho!" came ringing
down from the mast-head. Instantly the quiet of the morning was broken;
sleepers