One of the men belonging to the James Allen adopted a novel plan to get away from the ship. He was a middle-aged man, who had participated in numerous whaling-voyages. On the Allen he held a boatsteerer’s berth, but from dislike on the part of his captain, he was broken, and sent into the forecastle. In his many voyages, he had mastered the language of the Sandwich Islanders, which is intelligible to the native New Zealander, and _vice versa_. On the night that he determined to desert, he procured the paunch of a blackfish, which is readily found on board a whaler--it being well adapted for making drugs; in it he stowed his clothes, and firmly securing the aperture, he had an air-tight bag, with which he succeeded in reaching the shore in safety. Having a good deal of Yankee shrewdness, and being able to tinker a little, as well as to converse intelligibly, he managed to get into employment, and was doing quite well when last heard from. On the last day of March our mastheadsman sung out, that there were boats whaling ahead. We stood towards them, and, in the course of an hour, found that the James Allen’s boats were fast to a large sperm whale. We kept on running, and sighted more whales. We lowered away our boats at about 3 o’clock in the afternoon; but at 4¹⁄₂ o’clock we called them aboard, and stood out to sea. The boats were again lowered at 5 o’clock; and the third mate, after half an hour’s chase, struck a noble whale, his boatsteerer giving him both irons clear to the socket. Scarcely, however, had the second harpoon left his hand when the boat was struck twice in succession by the whale’s flukes. The blows were struck between the bow and amidship thwarts, knocking a large hole completely through her. She soon filled, and capsized. The crew swam to her, and got upon her bottom; but, there being a heavy swell on, she continued to roll over and over, the crew following her as best they could. Several times they regained their position on her; but just as the other boats approached the scene of disaster, to give them aid, they discovered that one of their number was missing. At the same instant the third mate cried out, that some one had hold of his legs, and urged haste on the part of the approaching boat. Being a strong swimmer, he managed to keep himself afloat, notwithstanding the drowning man’s clutch, until they had caught hold of him from the boat; but then he instantly exclaimed, “He has let go!” The boatsteerer of the larboard boat dove in, but could see nothing of him; and his boatmates were forced to return aboard, leaving him at rest in the sea, over which he had voyaged for years. Upon the boat’s arriving at the ship, the captain hailed it; and, fearing the worst, asked if any one was lost. On being answered that John was drowned, he appeared much affected, and wept like a child. The lost man was a German, named John Walter, belonging to Hamburg. He was of an amiable