An opportunity soon presented itself; and proved they were in earnest. On Tuesday, July 27th, we raised a “lone” whale, and in less than an hour from the time he was first seen he was lying alongside the ship, dead. On cutting him in, we found him an old veteran covered with scars, and two harpoons in him marked “S. M. N.” By this we knew he had been struck by the “Milton,” who was cruising on the ground. The following day, while cutting in the whale, a sail hove in sight to windward. Some hints were thrown out by the captain that this was the “Milton;” on hearing which, “all hands” struck up a lively tune, and the windlass went round cheerily; blanket-piece after blanket-piece came in on deck, and, just as the last piece swung in clear of the plankshire, the stranger rounded our stern. Instead of the “Milton” she proved to be the “Antelope,” of Newport, Captain Potter. Had it been the former vessel, and any part of the whale remaining in the water, the self-constituted laws of whalemen would have compelled us to have given up the whole of the whale, and this accounted for the hurry we were in to secure the fish ere the stranger came down to us. The result proved our fears to be groundless; nevertheless, the blubber was all on deck, and no one regretted it. A few days after this we again spoke the “Atkins Adams,” and found that she was about leaving the ground. On inquiring the cause of this resolve, Captain Fish said “that he had seen whales but twice since he had been on the ground, and both times they had steam-engines inside them, and were going like lightning, bound for the ‘Emily Morgan.’” Our skipper encouraged him to remain a while longer, telling him what success we had had, and that the best of the season was yet to come. The following morning, while in company with them, we raised a whale off our lee beam which had the appearance of having been wounded. Seeing us manœuvring, they ran down, but before they reached us we had a dead whale alongside. Without exchanging a word with us, they continued on their course to the southward, no doubt disheartened, and determined to try their luck elsewhere. We must now mention a very strange incident, and one that but very seldom occurs among whalemen. On cutting in this whale, we found two irons in it marked “S. E. M.” It being our own ship’s mark, and the irons belonging to the bow-boat, and recognized as such by all hands, proved conclusively that it was the same whale which had got our friend Jack into a scrape, and which we had lost nineteen days previous, and about 360 miles to the westward of where we were then cruising.