the flames seem to turn into melting fires, and the bars of
the grate into dead fish, and the smoke into sails and rigging, and I go
to work cutting up the blubber and stirring the oil-pots, or pulling the
bow-oar and driving the harpoon at such a rate that I can't help giving
a shout, which causes Tom to start and cry:--

"Hallo! Bob," (my name is Bob Ledbury, you see). "Hallo! Bob, wot's
the matter?"

To which I reply, "Tom, can it all be true?"

"Can _wot_ be true?" says he, with a stare of surprise--for Tom is
getting into his dotage now.

And then I chuckle and tell him I was only thinking of old times, and so
he falls to smoking again, and I to staring at the fire, and thinking as
hard as ever.

The way in which I was first led to go after the whales was curious.
This is how it happened.

About forty years ago, when I was a boy of nearly fifteen years of age,
I lived with my mother in one of the seaport towns of England. There
was great distress in the town at that time, and many of the hands were
out of work. My employer, a blacksmith, had just died, and for more
than six weeks I had not been able to get employment or to earn a
farthing. This caused me great distress, for my father had died without
leaving a penny in the world, and my mother depended on me entirely.
The money I had saved out of my wages was soon spent, and one morning
when I sat down to breakfast, my mother looked across the table and
said, in a thoughtful voice--

"Robert, dear, this meal has cost us our last halfpenny."

My mother was old and frail, and her voice very gentle; she was the most
trustful, uncomplaining woman I ever knew.

I looked up quickly into her face as she spoke. "All the money gone,
mother?"

"Ay, all. It will be hard for you to go without your dinner, Robert,
dear."

"It will be harder for you, mother," I cried, striking the table with my
fist; then a lump rose in my throat and almost choked me. I could not
utter another word.

It was with difficulty I managed to eat the little food that was before
me. After breakfast I rose hastily and rushed out of the house,
determined that I would get my mother her dinner, even if I should have
to beg for it. But I must confess that a sick feeling came over me when
I thought of begging.

Hurrying along the crowded streets without knowing very well what I
meant to do, I at last came to an abrupt halt at the end of the pier.
Here I went up to several people