When we had made about half the length of Madagascar without even raising a spout, we fell in with another New Bedford whaler, the Apollo, and Captain Nelson went aboard of her for a gam with Captain Hendrickson. I did not go. They gammed from early morning to late in the afternoon, and then I saw Captain Nelson’s boat coming back. The mate of the Apollo, who had been visiting us, hurried away with his men. As far as I could gather from what I overheard, the master of the Apollo had not communicated anything of value. She was a full ship, however, on her way home, and the old man—Captain Nelson—felt sure that she had found some new cruising ground, either in the Indian Ocean or in the Pacific, he thought more likely the Indian Ocean. He had spent the day in detective work, trying to find some clue to its location, but without result. Whaling captains, when they have happened upon a new field, guard the secret as carefully as they can, but it leaks out in a year or two. {223} No doubt Captain Hendrickson was laughing at him at that moment. He said this, standing on deck, looking back at the Apollo sinking into the sea behind us. She was hull down already, enveloped in a purple haze, for the sun was near its setting. The captain stood for some time silently gazing, until the old-fashioned square topsails of the Apollo were lost in the haze. Then he turned, smiling, to go below. “I ’ll find it, by Godfrey,” he muttered to himself, “if I have to comb these seas with a fine-toothed comb.” Two days later we raised a spout nearly in sight of Tamatave. Tamatave is on the east coast of Madagascar, in about 18° south latitude. It was a calm morning, and the whale was about three miles off. He was lying lazily on the surface, and we watched him for an hour and a half, waiting for him to go down. At last he decided to go. His flukes went straight up into the air, and he went down in a very leisurely manner, as if it was almost too much trouble to eat. It was as if he sighed and said, “Well, here goes. I suppose I must get to work.” That was the way I felt on that morning, and I had no doubt the whale felt much the same. Why should n’t whales feel so? We lowered two boats, and pulled to the spot. There was a gentle little breeze, and both boats put up their sails and sailed to and fro, waiting for him to come up. I was enjoying myself thoroughly, and did not care if he never came up. Indeed, we began to think he never would. It got to be an hour since he had gone down, and there was no sign of him. Then an hour and five minutes, and we lowered the sail and unstepped the mast. This was hardly done when he appeared silently, an eighth of a mile away, heading toward us. We were in an excellent situation, for as he was coming on, and could not see us, there was nothing for us to do but wait for him.