to swim in a circle and on one side
with one fin out of water, and soon he was dead. Sharks made their
appearance in the water so close to the boat that we could strike them
with our oars, and hundreds of large sea-birds were wildly flying around
us, all attracted by the blood. In the meantime the other boats had been
rowing hard to overtake us if possible and assist, or pick us up, in
case of accident. As we were dead to windward, and several miles from
the ship, all the boats had to fasten on and tow the whale back, and a
big contract it was.

On the ship everything had been made ready for "cutting-in." The fish
was fastened alongside by heavy iron chains and, with heavy tackles from
the main masthead and loading to the windlass, the blubber was slowly
hoisted on deck. The captain and the mate did the cutting with
long-handled blubber spades. They kept cutting one continuous strip two
feet wide, and at every eight feet would cut a hole and hook in the next
tackle; and so they kept on hoisting and lowering until the blubber was
all on board. It was a process similar to peeling an orange. The strain
from the windlass kept the whale's body revolving in the water as the
blubber was cut. The head was cut off and hoisted on deck entire. The
chains being removed, the carcass, weighing many tons, sank to the
bottom, the sharks voraciously following it.

Then a fire was built under the try-pots, with wood. As the oil was
boiled from the blubber it would be put in a cooling-pot and thence into
casks, the scraps being used for fuel. That work lasted for about a
week, everybody working hard. It was nothing but oil all over the
ship--clothing, food, and water--all had a liberal allowance. Eighty
barrels was the total of that catch. A few weeks later we sighted a
school of young whales. Several other ships being close at the time, it
was boats, whales, sharks, and everything mixed up.

Our boatswain got knocked overboard while we were fast to a whale;
another boat picked him up. We got only two whales out of the lot,
fifteen barrels of oil out of one and twenty out of the other. Some of
the other ships got five and six. About that time the season on that
coast ended. The captain concluded to make for port and get fresh
provisions and water, and then make a trip north of the equator. The
water in our casks was getting rather stale; it tasted and smelled like
a strong decoction of dead rats. San Carlos, Chiloe Island, was the port