*


CHAPTER III

FISHING BEGINS

During all the bustle of warlike preparation that had been going
on, the greenhorns had not suffered from inattention on the part
of those appointed to look after them. Happily for them, the
wind blew steadily, and the weather, thanks to the balmy
influence of the Gulf Stream, was quite mild and genial. The
ship was undoubtedly lively, as all good sea-boats are, but her
motions were by no means so detestable to a sea-sick man as those
of a driving steamer. So, in spite of their treatment, perhaps
because of it, some of the poor fellows were beginning to take
hold of things "man-fashion," although of course sea legs they
had none, their getting about being indeed a pilgrimage of pain.
Some of them were beginning to try the dreadful "grub" (I cannot
libel "food" by using it in such a connection), thereby showing
that their interest in life, even such a life as was now before
them, was returning. They had all been allotted places in the
various boats, intermixed with the seasoned Portuguese in such
a way that the officer and harpooner in charge would not be
dependant upon them entirely in case of a sudden emergency.
Every endeavour was undoubtedly made to instruct them in their
duties, albeit the teachers were all too apt to beat their
information in with anything that came to hand, and persuasion