With the usual variations of weather we wended our course through the South Atlantic--at one time becalmed, at another struggling with a heavy gale, until we arrived in the vicinity of the Islands of Tristan D’Acunha, when one morning we were startled by our mastheadsman shouting, “There blows! and a forked spout, _sir_.” This informed us of the presence of right whales; their spout, unlike that of other whales, being forked. Our boats were lowered; but we had no sooner got in their neighborhood than they peaked their flukes and went to windward, eyes out--which means as fast as the wind. It was useless to follow them, and we returned aboard with fishermen’s luck--a wet skin, and hungry stomach. When down in the boats at this time I had a _near_ view of a whale. We were not more than a boat’s length from a large one, when he sounded, and, as he threw his tail in the air, I had an excellent sight of his small and flukes. What I felt I cannot describe; but the shining skin covering all, and the manifestation of power and bulk, in every movement, made me think of some vast piece of iron machinery; and I cannot imagine a more effective battering ram than a whale’s flukes employed by himself. In these latitudes we saw numbers of varied specimens of the ornithological family. The albatross, monimoke, old horse, noddy, cape pigeon, garnet, mutton bird, and Mother Carey’s chicken or petrel, all existing here in great numbers. The albatross I have seen measure fifteen feet from the extremity of one wing to the tip of the other. It is a beautiful bird, and comes around a ship in great numbers when a whale is alongside. They are ever on the alert for something to eat, appear at all times hungry, and their voraciousness makes them an easy prey. They are often caught. Their quills are not fit for pens, but are used by sailors to splice their pipes; their feathers are used in making beds and pillows; their feet are skinned and made into tobacco-pouches; whilst the head and bill are cleaned and taken home as a curiosity. As a general thing they are not eaten; but our cook at one time agreed to cook them, if we would catch and dress them. They were soon ready for him; and after being cooked they were very palatable, although they had an oily flavor, somewhat resembling that of the canvas-back duck. The mess having succeeded so well, it became a favorite, but was indulged in so often that it soon fell into distaste, and the practice was not again revived; the more so, as the captain had a peculiar regard for the birds, and professed to place implicit confidence in the assertion, that if they were misused by a ship’s crew, those who maltreated them would assuredly meet with some evil fortune. The Cape pigeon is a beautiful bird, about the same size as our domestic bird of the same name. They are uniform in color, alternate stripes of black and white coursing their plumage.