Attempts on the part of the officers to direct or dictate, not unfrequently made, failed, as was right they should do, except in one instance (judging from the case being often alluded to by my Father with regret), where the yielding to a proposition against his better judgment met with its consistent rebuke. A number of whales had been fallen in with, and the greater part of the boats had been sent out in pursuit. Reckless and ill-conditioned they pulled about hither and thither, frightening many, but harpooning none, of the objects of chase. For a considerable period the same folly or inefficiency was being enacted, and yet “fish” in encouraging numbers were still to be seen. The chief mate, one Matthew Smith, came to my Father to remonstrate with him for keeping the boats so long abroad without something to exhilarate the men,—urging, that spirits, as he said was usual, should be sent to them, or it could not be expected that they could either succeed or persevere. Though more than doubtful of the wisdom of employing stimulants in an adventure requiring the greatest coolness and self-possession, my Father unfortunately yielded, and ordered the steward to supply a quantity of brandy for being carried out to the absent sailors. But the mate’s boat, which was sent with this _refreshment_ (?) was seen, after it had proceeded a mile or so from the ship, to cease rowing, and “lie to on its oars;” and there, as my Father’s sure telescope told him, they remained, till the crew had “drank themselves drunk.” Then, in their mad folly, they proceeded to the field of fishing enterprise, and effectually marred any chance of success, if a single honest harpooner were there, and gave a new and additional impulse to the existing recklessness and disaffection. But private resistance of orders, as well as apparent neglect of opportunities frequently afforded them of advancing the grand object of the voyage, ultimately grew into the most aggravated form of insubordination—_mutiny_.