For a week we beat back and forth in fine weather without a sign of a whale. I had almost ceased to think of them, and spent my spare time in surreptitious games with Peter or with the group of men who were usually gathered about him; or I stood by the windlass or sat between the knightheads—anywhere where I could not be spied from aft—and looked out ahead over the white-capped seas, feeling the brisk wind on my cheeks, and listening to the noise of the water under the bows, and to the gentle creaking of the spars and rigging. To me those are inexpressibly soothing sounds; they have always been so, and are to this day. The noises of the life of the ship—not very loud at their worst, in such a case—are far behind you, and they come faintly to your ears, as if from another world. They do not seem real, as do the bubbling of the water under the bow, and the wash of it as it passes {194} astern, and the faint noise of breaking seas, and the soft sound of the wind on the sails. That pleasant mode of life was not to last forever. One afternoon I was lying on my back on the heel of the bowsprit. I had just finished my chores after dinner, and had lain down to gaze up at the sails, full and straining, and at the sky above them. My gaze travelled up the foremast, past the topsails, which were braced well around, for we were sailing with the wind forward of the beam. The fore truck described slow ellipses against the sky, and I was fascinated in watching them. Now and then I caught a glimpse, past the bellying topsail, of the masthead man. He seemed very far up. He was leaning wearily against the hoops, as if he might have been asleep. Suddenly he straightened alertly. I knew what to expect then, and I sat up as the cry floated down to me; then I jumped to my feet, and ran to Mr. Brown’s boat. There were two spouts, about three miles to leeward, and the whales seemed to be travelling at about the same rate as the ship, and pretty near together. The spouts rose as regularly as the exhaust of a tugboat, although nowhere near as fast; there were ten or twelve seconds between them. The ship was laid around on a course nearly parallel with that of the whales, and we waited to see if they would not go down to feed. There was no sign of their doing so, however, and after waiting over twenty minutes, we lowered three boats. Our boat—that means Mr. Brown’s—was one of the three. I took my place in it without asking leave, but as Mr. Brown looked right at me, and made no objection, and as the Prince even smiled at me, I thought it was probably what was expected. [Illustration: LOWERING BOATS]