But well had we marked that by far the most important item of a
whale-boat's furniture was snugly secured in its place. This was the
water-tight keg, at both ends firmly headed, containing a small
compass, tinder-box and flint, candles, and a score or two of
biscuit. This keg is an invariable precaution against what so
frequently occurs in pursuing the sperm whale--prolonged absence from
the ship, losing sight of her, or never seeing her more, till years
after you reach home again. In this same keg of ours seemed coopered
up life and death, at least so seemed it to honest Jarl. No sooner
had we got clear from the Arcturion, than dropping his oar for an
instant, he clutched at it in the dark.

And when day at last came, we knocked out the head of the keg with
the little hammer and chisel, always attached to it for that purpose,
and removed the compass, that glistened to us like a human eye. Then
filling up the vacancy with biscuit, we again made all tight, driving
down the hoops till they would budge no more.

At first we were puzzled to fix our compass. But at last the Skyeman
out knife, and cutting a round hole in the after-most thwart, or seat
of the boat, there inserted the little brass case containing the
needle.

Over the stern of the boat, with some old canvas which my Viking's
forethought had provided, we spread a rude sort of awning, or rather
counterpane. This, however, proved but little or no protection from
the glare of the sun; for the management of the main-sail forbade any
considerable elevation of the shelter. And when the breeze was fresh,
we were fain to strike it altogether; for the wind being from