jug of New England rum, managed to burn to a cinder, so that we were compelled to resort to our old provender. As soon as my companion and myself had become members of this household, we, with our assiduous friend the Shark, proceeded to the agent’s, with whom he wished us to engage, and after being approved by the Captain, and having made inquiries as to the character of the vessel and her commander, we enrolled our names upon the articles of the Barque Pacific, of New Bedford, Captain John W. Sherman, bound to the South Atlantic and Indian Oceans, to cruise for sperm and right whales. The vessel was of three hundred and eighty tons burthen, capable of carrying three thousand barrels of oil, and fitted out for forty months; she was then undergoing thorough repairs, having but two months previously returned from a voyage of thirty months’ duration, in which she had been very successful; and this, with several previous very remunerative voyages, had given her the name of a lucky ship, which insured her a good crew; seamen, as a class, being superstitious, are always eager to sail in a ship with which some favorable omen is, or has been, connected, auguring from such data her subsequent success. As she would not be ready for sea for about three weeks after I had joined her, I had plenty of leisure time to look around me. The principal objects in my eyes were, of course, the wharves and shipping; and, indeed, the scene there presented was one of interest to any observer; bustle and activity was everywhere apparent; ships loading, discharging, repairing, &c., in every direction. Here one might be seen hove on her beam-ends, receiving a new copper jacket; another totally dismantled, preparatory to receiving new spars; on another the riggers were aloft at work, with their merry song; below, still another might be seen weather-beaten and shabby, her copper covered with moss and barnacles, she having returned but a few hours before from a long voyage, and the casks being hoisted from her hold contain part of her cargo of oil, gleaned, during her four years of cruising, from the monsters of the Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, Arctic, and Antarctic Oceans. Alongside this weatherworn ship, and in strong contrast with her whole appearance, lies a smart, trim-looking vessel, such a one as makes Jack Tar’s heart bound to look at; her hull is perfect in model, her spars all rake jauntily aft, her yards are squared by the lifts and braces, whilst the fresh appearance of her paint gives her a coquettish look and bespeaks her ready for sea. They are now putting aboard of her the remnant of her provisions not yet stowed; and as we pass up the gangway we come in contact with a sailor’s chest being conveyed aboard under the Argus eyes of its hardy owner, who forms one of her crew.