But I must resume the legitimate course of my log, which was interrupted, I believe, as we were making our way down the Derwent. By night we were outside and beating up for the Southwest Cape. There, on Sunday the 9th, we sighted sperm whales. We lowered away, and in about an hour had one snugly moored alongside. The following day we cut him in despite a gale of wind; fortunately, saving the whale. On the following Wednesday we saw another school of whales, but, after chasing all day, gave up the pursuit as hopeless. As soon as we were done boiling, the James Allen hove in sight, having left Hobartown several days after we sailed. They informed us that after we left, her cooper, and one of her boatsteerers deserted, having been enticed away by the smiles of some of Hobartown’s syrens. They also stated that the Prince Regent had arrived, and brought news of our missing boat’s crew. That, a few days after our leaving the coast of New Zealand, they came alongside the Prince Regent and begged for provisions and some water, saying that they had been lying in a bay a short distance South of Milford Haven, waiting for our departure from the coast. Those who saw them said that they were emaciated and woe-begone to a painful degree. The captain of the Prince Regent, who, both with his own countrymen and strangers, bears the unenviable notoriety of being a niggard, refused to give them a single thing. They left him and went alongside a Maurii schooner, where their wants were supplied--the semi-civilized man, who is sneered at by his more polished cotemporary, displaying the most humanity. Afterward they were seen to go into Open Bay, take aboard several men who had deserted from the Lady Emma, and direct their boat to the northward, where we will leave them, until, in the due course of the narrative, their further exploits are developed.