"You needn't be afraid of sword-fishes," said Captain Jim
Hubbell. "They don't fancy the cold water we are sailin' in; and
as to whales, don't you know, madam, there ain't no more of 'em?"

"No more whales!" exclaimed Sarah. "I have heard about 'em all
my life!"

"Oh, you can read and hear about 'em easy enough," replied Captain
Jim, "but you nor nobody else will ever see none of 'em ag'in--at
least, in this part of the world. Sperm-whales began gittin' scarce
when I was a boy, and pretty soon there was nothin' left but
bow-head or right whales, that tried to keep out of the way of
human bein's by livin' far up North; but when they came to shootin'
'em with cannons which would carry three or four miles, the whale's
day was up, and he got scarcer and scarcer, until he faded out
altogether. There was a British vessel, the Barkright, that killed
two bow-head whales in 1935, north of Melville Island, but since
that time there hasn't been a whale seen in all the arctic waters.
I have heard that said by sailors, and I have read about it. They
have all been killed, and nothin' left of 'em but the skeletons
that's in the museums."

Mrs. Block shuddered. "It would be terrible to meet a livin'
one, and yet it is an awful thought to think that they are all
dead and gone," said she.