t active and
full of energy, so that every order was at once obeyed without noise or
confusion. Every man watched the slightest motion of the captain. We
all felt that everything depended on him.

As for me, I gave up all hope of being saved. It seemed impossible to
me that anything that man could build could withstand so terrible a
storm. I do not pretend to say that I was not afraid. The near
prospect of a violent death caused my heart to sink more than once; but
my feelings did not unman me. I did my duty quietly, but quickly, like
the rest; and when I had no work to do, I stood holding on to the
weather stanchions, looking at the raging sea, and thinking of my
mother, and of the words of kindness and counsel she had so often
bestowed upon me in vain.

The storm ceased almost as quickly as it began, and although the sea did
not all at once stop the heavings of its angry bosom, the wind fell
entirely in the course of a few hours, the dark clouds broke up into
great masses that were piled up high into the sky, and out of the midst
of these the glorious sun shone in bright rays down on the ocean, like
comfort from heaven, gladdening our hearts as we busily repaired the
damage that we had suffered from the storm.

CHAPTER THREE.

OUR FIRST BATTLE.

I shall never forget the surprise I got the first time I saw a whale.

It was in the forenoon of a most splendid day, about a week after we
arrived at that part of the ocean where we might expect to find fish. A
light nor'-east breeze was blowing, but it scarcely ruffled the sea, as
we crept slowly through the water with every stitch of canvas set.

As we had been looking out for fish for some time past, everything was
in readiness for them. The boats were hanging over the side ready to
lower, tubs for coiling away the ropes, harpoons, lances, etcetera, all
were ready to throw in, and start away at a moment's notice. The man in
the "crow's nest," as they call the cask fixed up at the mast-head, was
looking anxiously out for whales, and the crew were idling about the
deck. Tom Lokins was seated on the windlass smoking his pipe, and I was
sitting beside him on an empty cask, sharpening a blubber-knife.

"Tom," said I, "what like is a whale?"

"Why, it's like nothin' but itself," replied Tom, looking puzzled.
"Why, wot a queer feller you are to ax questions."

"I'm sure you've seen plenty of them. You might be able to tell what a
whale is like."

"Wot