Steering to the westward we sighted Bald Island and Baldhead, and cruised in their neighborhood for several weeks, seeing sperm whales once, but, after a hard day’s chase, giving up the pursuit as futile. One Sunday, at daybreak, the order was passed forward to loose the flying-jib. One of the hands laying out on the boom for the purpose, the foot rope parted, and he was precipitated into the sea. We had had blustering weather for a few days previous, and a heavy swell was on at the time of the catastrophe. No one saw him fall; but one of the crew, imagining, as he thought, that he heard a gurgling sound in the water, looked over the bow, and saw at a glance what had happened. The alarm being instantly given, the cry of “Man overboard,” resounded throughout the ship; and, without waiting to dress, the whole crew, fore and aft, made their appearance on deck. In a moment the wheel was put hard down, and the mainyard hauled aback. The first officer sprang into the larboard boat, in his nightdress, and cut the gripes; the tackles were let go by the run, and the moment she touched the water she was manned by a crew, who, with strong arms and brave hearts, lustily pulled for their hapless companion. Fortunately, he was a strong swimmer, and, although the weather was cold and he enveloped in the heaviest of sea clothing, with his coat on, also, he found but little difficulty in keeping afloat. In a short time the fourth mate, who was in the head of the boat, grasped him and hauled him aboard. The word was instantly given that he was saved. No cheers followed this agreeable announcement; but a deep-drawn sigh of satisfaction expressed the relief such intelligence afforded. In eight minutes from the time the order was given to loose the sail, we had him safe and snug aboard the ship. He was so weak as to be unable to clamber from the boat up the side. On stepping from the rail to the deck, he was welcomed as one restored from the dead, and, after many assurances that he was all right, except a slight weakness, the excitement began to subside. None but those who have experienced it, can imagine the effect produced by the cry of “Man overboard,” on every hearer; and to us, who had lived for more than a year together, seeing and conversing with each other every hour in the day, all depending on the same fabric for shelter against the storm and wave, it came with a ten-fold force--as none knew whose turn it next might be. Nothing serious resulted from the ducking; a slight cold, that soon yielded to simple treatment, being the only affection.