c
denizens of the sea really are. As far as the eye could reach, extending
all round one-half of the horizon, the sea appeared to be alive with
spouts--all sperm whales, all bulls of great size. The value of this
incredible school must have been incalculable. Subsequent experience
satisfied me that such a sight was by no means uncommon here; in fact,
"lone whales" or small "pods" were quite the exception.

Well, we all "waded in," getting, some two, some one whale apiece,
according to the ability of the crews or the fortune of war. Only one
fell to our lot in the CACHALOT, but it was just as well. We had hardly,
got him fast by the fluke alongside when it began to pipe up from the
north-east. In less than one watch the sea was fairly smoking with the
fierceness of the wind. We were unable to get in anywhere, being, with a
whale alongside, about as handy as a barge loaded with a haystack; while
those unfortunate beggars that had two whales fast to them were utterly
helpless as far as independent locomotion went, unless they could run
dead before the wind. Every ship made all snug aloft, and hoisted the
boats to the top notch of the cranes, fully anticipating a long, hard
struggle with the elements before they got back to the cruising ground
again. Cutting-in was out of the question in such weather; the only
thing possible was to hope for a shift of wind before she got too far
out, or a break in the weather. Neither of these events was probable, as
all frequenters of South New Zealand know, bad weather having there an
unhappy knack of being as persistent as fine weather is brief.

Night drew on as our forlorn and heavily handicapped little fleet bore
steadily seaward with their burdens, the angry, ever-increasing sea,
battering at us vengefully, while the huge carcasses alongside tore and
strained at their fastenings as if they would rend the ships asunder.
Slowly our companions faded from sight as the murky sky shut down on us,
until in lonely helplessness we drifted on our weary way out into the
vast, inhospitable Southern Ocean. Throughout the dark and stormy night
our brave old ship held on her unwilling way right gallantly, making no
water, in spite of the fearful strain to which she was subjected, nor
taking any heavy sea over all. Morning broke cheerlessly enough. No
abatement in the gale or change in its direction; indeed, it looked like
lasting a month. Only one ship was visible far to leeward of us, and
she was