On the 19th we again saw the same school. At 5 o’clock in the afternoon the waist-boat fastened, was stoven by the whale’s flukes, and her crew obliged to swim for their lives, when they were picked up by the starboard-boat, and carried to the ship. The other boat then went on to the whale, and her boatsteerer darted at him half-a-dozen times in succession, but without effect. Night approaching, we were compelled to desist. Early the next morning we saw a large whale alone--lowered, and the waist-boat fastened. She continued attached for some time, when, her line being nearly run out, the larboard boat’s was bent on to it. By mistake, a line that had been exposed to the weather, had been put into the waist-boat, in lieu of her line that was carried off the day before. The mate, finding that his own line was fast running out, attached a drug to it--hoping that by its resistance in the water the whale would be to some extent forced to moderate his soundings. The old line, unable to endure the strain caused by the drug, parted; and away the whale went to windward eyes out, with a speed that, to the chagrin of all, defied pursuit. So, here was the third whale, this season, lost by the one boat. Oil reviewing this journal, it will be seen in the preceding pages, that a singular fatality has attended all the operations of this boat since we left home. When under the management of Mr. Edwards, (our former second officer, and as good a whaleman as ever stepped into the head of a whaleboat,) she was capsized. Under her present manager, she had her line taken by a whale, off Cape Chatham, where she was also capsized. In the Bight, the whale was only saved by the timely arrival of the bow-boat with its line. The large whale that went off spouting blood, was fastened to from her; the whale of yesterday, that capsized her; and that of to-day, that parted her line--go to make up a catalogue of misfortunes that the annals of whaling-voyages can scarcely equal. And all her disasters--capsizing, losing her whale, losing her line, and being stoven--arose, not from incapacity on the part of her officers, but from a combination of unforeseen circumstances, which it would have been in vain for the most experienced whaleman to guard against. On the last day of December we experienced the initiation of a gale, which lasted, in incessant violence, until the 6th of January, ’58, but doing no injury to us, further than shipping a heavy sea that cleared away our gangway, and deluged our decks, fore and aft, without so much as saying, “By your leave.” We kept on one tack, heading constantly to the north and westward.