There were but five survivors. One man, he whose ominous looks had made the mate draw his pistol, had not lived to see the approach of the whale boat. Jack and his companions were treated not unkindly on board, though their life was a rough one. The whaler was an American, outward bound, and five fresh hands when their strength returned were no unwelcome addition to her crew. Their early success put all hands in good humour, and several sperm whales were killed before they reached their usual cruising ground on the borders of the Antarctic ice fields. Jack was soon initiated into the mysteries of blubber cutting and boiling, and as the dirt and oil-begrimed countenances of the men were seen as they moved around their seething cauldrons, amid bright flames and dense masses of smoke, they looked like spirits of evil summoned to labour by some diabolical agency. Several weeks thus passed by, when the whaler with a full cargo was once more steered northward. All hands were exulting in their success. The weather had been fine. There was every prospect of a prosperous voyage. Cape Horn had been rounded, and they were at no great distance from the coast of South America. Before long, however, a change took place; thick weather came on, and for many days not a glimpse of the sun was obtained. The master too was taken ill, and the first mate had proved himself a bad navigator. The result was that the ship was out of her reckoning. A gale sprung up, which, shifting to the eastward, increased to a hurricane. The belief was that the ship was a long way from the coast. It was night. The darkness was intense, such as can be felt. The gale had somewhat abated, and it was hoped that canvas might soon be got on the ship to take her off the land, when that terror-inspiring cry arose from forward:--"Breakers ahead!" In tones of dismay it was repeated along the decks. "There's a watery grave for most of us then," exclaimed the old boatswain, near whom Jack was standing. Scarcely had he spoken when the ship struck, and the wild sea made a clean breach over her, washing many poor fellows to destruction. Groans of horror, shrieks of despair rose on every side; but the sounds were quickly silenced by the roar of the waves, the crashing of the falling sails, and the wrenching asunder of the stout timbers. Jack clung to the bulwarks, and as they gave way he found himself borne onward with them through the foaming breakers into comparatively smooth water. The force of the wind still drove him on till he felt his feet touching the hard sand. Disengaging himself from the pieces of wreck, before the waters returned, he was beyond their reach.