keeps his helm hard-a-port."

We brought out our rifles to try this new game, though the practice
was as much a trial of skill as the traditional 'barn at ten paces.'
Several shots were fired, but I did not see any thing drop. The sport
was amusing to all concerned; at any rate the whale didn't seem to
mind it, and we were delighted at the fun. When his survey was
finished he braced his helm to starboard, opened his throttle valves
and went away to windward.

We estimated his length at a hundred and twenty feet, and thought he
might register 'A 1,' at the proper office. Captain Patterson called
him a 'bow head,' good for a hundred barrels of oil and a large
quantity of bone. The Colonel proposed engaging him to tow us into
port. Covert wished his blubber piled in our coal bunkers; the artist
sketched him, and the draughtsman thought of putting him on a
Mercator's projection. For my part I have written the little I know of
his life and experiences, but it is very little. I cannot even say
where he lodges, whose hats he wears, when his notes fall due, or
whether he ever took a cobbler or the whooping cough. Of course this
incident led to stories concerning whales. Captain Patterson told
about the destruction of the ship Essex by a sperm whale thirty or
more years ago. The Colonel described the whale fishery as practiced
by the Kamchadales and Aleutians. These natives have harpoons with
short lines to which they attach bladders or skin bags filled with
air. A great many boats surround a whale and stick him with as many
harpoons as possible. If successful, they will so encumber him that
his strength is not equal to the buoyancy of the bladders, and in this
condition he is finished with a lance. A great feast is sure to follow
his capture, and every interested native indulges in whale-steak to