We all huddled together and Captain Gamans, who was to be our master for nearly three years, proceeded to address us. The captain was a young man, not over thirty years old, of good size but not of very attractive appearance. He seemed inclined to be somewhat savage. The following remarks he delivered in a sharp, nasal tone: “See here, you fellows, I’m boss on this ship. I want you to understand you’ll have to work and work hard. There’s no hanging round on a whaler, as some folks think. Whalemen work a great deal harder than merchantmen. Now don’t let me see any wasting of grub. I’ll put the man who does it in irons for a week. The sooner you greenies learn the ropes and to box the compass, the better. If you don’t, no watch below until you do. Competition between the boats is all right, but there must be fair play. Now for the boats’ crews and the watches; and look out for yourselves.” Lakeum called out sharply, “Fall in line—old hands at one end, greenies at the other.” The order was obeyed, but the vessel rolled so that the greenies wobbled about considerably. The mates examined our ribs and arms in order to size up our probable strength and endurance, while the boat-steerers or harpooners stood by and offered suggestions. Then came the selection for the places in the boats, and to my great joy I learned that I was to be stroke oar in the first mate’s boat. I felt grateful to Lakeum and the shipkeeper as well. The few who were not chosen were to remain on the ship when the boats were down for whales. Long afterwards Lakeum told me that selecting a greenie as stroke oar was something of an experiment, but my size, the recommendation of the shipkeeper and the fact that I was brought up in a seaport town and knew something of salt water determined him. Now came what they called “the picking of the watches.” This was the duty of the first and second mates. There were three watches on our vessel. While those who made up a watch were on deck, the others were at rest or off duty. Between four and eight p.m. there were two short periods called dogwatches. That very day the crows’ nests were built at the mastheads. In each case a pair of crosstrees was fitted to the masthead, upon each side of which was constructed a small platform. This provided a foothold. A couple of padded hoops were secured above at a point a little higher than a man’s waist. With his feet on the platform, his body through the hoops and his arms resting thereon, one could look over the entire ocean, as far as the horizon, in search of whales.