"My dear captain, pray let them alone. Boatswain," (turning to Tony Trybrace) "just take the long-boat with a complement of men, follow the boats of the Jenny Hollins and see that they do their work well, and then order them to the ship. We cannot afford to lose a good whale in these times." So, in spite of the mortified pride of the skipper of the Jenny Hollins, Tony set out in the long-boat, wherein myself and most of my chums were rowers. The whale-boats were busily engaged in tackling a huge whale, probably thinking our craft to be nothing more than a brother whaler, stopped to take pot-luck. They had harpooned their prey several times, and he had come up to breathe for the last time, and to die, when we rowed up. Now, a sperm whale in his death-flurry, as it is called, is not to be approached incautiously, without danger. But we were by no means experienced whalers, and rowed in, regardless of expense or peril, when, suddenly, we caught his tail squarely under our keel, and were lifted up skyward about forty feet, the boat capsizing in the air and tumbling everybody and everything out in the shake of a sheep's tail. Well, we all came down with a rush, as you may be sure. I am sorry to state that I, instead of coming down in the water, alit, head-first, on the back of the Leviathan, stunning me, and leaving me floating around in the water like a dead man. But, fortunately, our boat had fallen bottom downward, old Bluefish had regained her, and we were all picked up, one after another, more dripping than hurt. I remember coming to slowly, and hearing old Bluefish murmuring in my ears, with as much of tenderness as could inform his rude voice: "Wake up! wake up! There's a dear fellow! I know'd as how a son of a sea-cook was never born to be drownded in salt water!" Well, the whale breathed his last soon after our mishap, and we helped the men tow her to the ship; though they were, of course, somewhat crestfallen to learn that they had been in the employ of Uncle Sam for the last hour or two. Nevertheless, we had a gay time in trying out and cutting up the monster. There was a singular mishap occurred at about the close of this operation. It is the custom to have the carcass of the whale lashed to the side of the ship while the work of cutting up is going on. I may as well mention, by way of parenthesis, that this operation of cutting up allures a great number of sharks to the side of the ship, for the sake of the worthless blubber and other _débris_. And, at this time, any man may venture among the black-fins with perfect impunity--so much more is whale-meat esteemed above human flesh by epicurean sharks. As soon as the flesh that is triable is taken from the whale, the carcass becomes a dead weight in the water, descending through the waves with a rush as soon as the stays are cut.