At four bells all hands on watch aboard of both crafts turned to--the sailors of the _Pandora_ being employed in scrubbing their decks for the reception of the passengers, whilst the hardy old whalers lazily crawled out of their forecastle, and, after dashing a few buckets of water over the captain’s quarters, betook themselves to the ’tween decks, where they stretched new lines, and vied with each other in telling the ‘longest twister’ (that is, in nautical parlance, the most improbable untruth) they could possibly think of. When the bells were struck to announce breakfast aboard the _Daisy_, their sound re-echoed on the _Pandora_, and the seamen of the smaller craft were surprised to see the poop deck of their big neighbour crowded with bright dresses and brighter faces; whilst the ladies of the _Pandora_ wondered, in their turn, at the appearance of so large a crew on such a little vessel, and their interest continued throughout the day. ‘_There she spouts!_’ sang out the man on the look-out at the fore-topmast head of the whaler, not half-an-hour afterwards. ‘Where away?’ bawled Mr Green. ‘Two points on the starboard bow,’ was the answer. ‘Aye! aye!’ said the mate, catching sight of the whale, as it rose close to the _Pandora_. ‘Are there many?’ hastily inquired Captain Rae, who had deserted his breakfast as soon as he heard the welcome news. ‘Wal, I guess so, sir,’ replied Mr Green. ‘There are some in the wake of that packet ahead theer; and I saw one critter breach away here on the quarter. There he goes again!’ continued the mate, pointing to a large dark object which had leapt right out of the water, and fallen in again with a tremendous splash. When the intelligence reached the saloon of the _Pandora_ that a school of whales was playing right under her bow, the passengers, frantic with excitement, left their breakfast to take care of itself, and, gathering together every spy-glass and binocular that could be borrowed or stolen, rushed upon deck, and remained there until the play was over, and the curtain fell. The _Daisy’s_ helm was put down, and her foresail laid to the mast, and when her clew garnets were chock-a-block, the boats were quickly but cautiously lowered. The chief officer, in charge of the first boat, was stationed in the stern, grasping a long sweep to steer her with. Six hands on the thwarts manned the oars, and Christopher Thommasen, a Norwegian harpooner, with his deadly weapons, sat in the bow. With long muffled strokes the rowers laid back on their blades, and in a short space of time reached the desired spot, not, however, before they had ‘gallied’ (or alarmed) one of the ‘bulls,’ who began to shoot his spout of water to a great height. Some of the ‘cows’ approached very close to the boat--so close, indeed, that at times she was in imminent danger of being upset, and all hands expected to be toppled into the water, and delivered over to the mercy of Davy Jones.