We did not see that school again, but early in the morning of the second day, being then in longitude 162° W., latitude 8° S., by the captain’s—and my own—observations, we came upon three islands. They were very small islands, roughly about a mile long and half a mile wide, each a sort of crescent, and forming, as I now think, parts of the rim of a crater but recently elevated above the surface. They were not shown on any of our charts, and could not have been exposed to the sun and winds and waves for many years, for they were almost utterly bare; perhaps a hundred feet high at the highest point, and showing nothing but rock and dried mud and ooze from the bed of the sea. We did not land on them, but at only one place could I make out with my glass a spot of {334} green, and that was only about a couple of feet square. Possibly some bird had dropped a seed there, or a coconut had drifted ashore, or the seeds of beach grass in a mass of drifting seaweed. Beaches had begun to form, especially on the windward side. The captain having satisfied himself about the waters, we began cruising for whales in earnest, for we had seen a couple of pods earlier in the day. We had almost sunk the islands below the horizon before we raised another spout. While we were in this neighborhood a day rarely passed without our seeing any. There were two spouts this time. We worked the ship to windward of them, and lowered three boats, leaving Mr. Tilton and Captain Coffin aboard the ship. Before we reached them, the whales sounded, without having seen us, and we waited, tossing on the seas, for them to rise. When we had waited for nearly an hour, they suddenly spouted near Mr. Baker and Mr. Macy, at the other end of the line from us. We had not seen them rise. All three boats started for them. We had a long way to go, and it was hard pulling, for the sea was heavy. The ship was well to windward, and the whales had spread out. None of us could see what was going on ahead of us, but we were putting our last ounce of strength into pulling—at least, I was—when Mr. Brown told us to take it easy, for they had sounded again. I was glad that they had shown so much sense. Those whales kept up that sort of thing for five risings, always working to windward slowly, and the ship working to windward ahead of us. It got to be nearly sunset, and the ship showed a little white flag at her peak, recalling us. We did not know it, however, as we were keeping head to the sea, and the ship was behind our backs. Mr. Brown knew it. At that moment one of the whales rounded out directly astern, and head on. As it was a good chance, Mr. Brown ignored the signal, heaving on the steering oar, and laying the boat around. {335} “Now,” he said, “a dozen good strokes, boys.”