A little to the northward of where we anchored there was a larger river, apparently full of salmon; although they would not take the flies offered them, no end of smaller salmon and trout of about a quarter of a pound were landed as fast as the lines could be applied. After I had returned on board in the afternoon, I observed from the stern walk an unusual commotion among the native fishing-boats that had spread their nets off the mouth of the stream; one of our boats on its way to the ship with the wardroom officers, coming off to dinner, had been attracted to the spot. There was cheering and shots were fired. One of the cutters was ready manned, alongside. Calling the Commodore, we jumped into her, followed by Garnier, who took the precaution to bring a couple of rifle carbines--always ready with ammunition in the fore cabin. It was a curious and exciting scene. A whale had got entangled in the fishermen’s net and was floundering about in its endeavours to escape. Our boats with those of the natives formed three sides of a square just outside the edge of the net, that side next the shore it being unnecessary to guard. Every minute or so the monster raised his huge head to blow--I expect as much to look about him--and then exposed his body as he dived. On each occasion he was assailed by shots, spears, and lances. Although I had seen thousands of whales, I never before had been within boat-hook’s length of a live one. Each time his head appeared the Commodore and I sent a rifle bullet into it. While the natives plunged lances, the beast spouted blood and water; twice he tried to hoist the cutter, but with the crew we were too heavy for him, as he only tilted us on one side; this work had lasted nearly half an hour, and we thought his strength exhausted, when the infuriated animal, probably pierced deeper by one of the lances, made a final effort. Lashing his tail, he dashed through the net, lifted one of the lighter native boats, out of which the crew had previously escaped, into the air, and made for the deep, leaving a wake of blood. It is to be hoped that the poor natives whose net he destroyed will be rewarded in a day or two by finding his body. I was struck by the number of dogs there were on shore, all apparently in good condition. They were sledge dogs, and in the morning two teams of them were scampering along the beach towing boats; there was no one on shore to guide them, and they appeared to enjoy the fun. [Sidenote: July 6.] Weighed at 10.30 A.M. under plain sail. Observing on the chart there were two lagoons near the coast, likely for wild fowl, visited them. On standing in shore, we suddenly took the bottom; last cast in the chains was 12 fathoms. Had to lay out stream and heave off; water smooth, weather fine, but bottom foul. It was 8 P.M. before we took up our berth in 7 fathoms, about two miles from the shore. [Sidenote: July 7.]