Jack and I were sitting, as we were often wont to do, on the rocks
at Spouting Cliff, and Peterkin was wringing the water from his
garments, having recently fallen by accident into the sea, - a
thing he was constantly doing, - when our attention was suddenly
arrested by two objects which appeared on the horizon.

"What are yon, think you?" I said, addressing Jack.

"I can't imagine," answered he; "I've noticed them for some time,
and fancied they were black sea-gulls, but the more I look at them
the more I feel convinced they are much larger than gulls."

"They seem to be coming towards us," said I.

"Hallo! what's wrong?" inquired Peterkin, coming up.

"Look there," said Jack.

"Whales!" cried Peterkin, shading his eyes with his hand. "No! eh!
can they be boats, Jack?"

Our hearts beat with excitement at the very thought of seeing human
faces again.

"I think you are about right, Peterkin; - but they seem to me to
move strangely for boats," said Jack, in a low tone, as if he were
talking to himself.

I noticed that a shade of anxiety crossed Jack's countenance as he
gazed long and intently at the two objects, which were now nearing