The keenness of sight of the Gay Head Indians is proverbial, and to a foremast hand of that colony was awarded the prize for the largest bowhead captured. It is with great pleasure that we announce that one of our New Bedford boys was a successful competitor. Homer Bleechly, who shipped on the Seabird as a foremast hand, when hardly more than a boy, displayed the most remarkable powers of vision, actually raising more whales than any other man on the ship. One day when in the crow’s nest with the Gay Header beside him, he surpassed that vigilant individual in discovering the low bushy spout of a sperm whale at a point on the horizon where his companion could detect nothing but the mere movement of the waves. The whale thus sighted proved to be a monster, and as fierce as he was physically great. He smashed two boats and severely injured two seamen. The oil he yielded stowed down just one hundred and forty-one barrels. This statement, so far from the truth, astounded me. I learned that the information was furnished the newspaper by one of my over-zealous friends. It had the effect of advertising my success, which it will be remembered was due to a mere accident, and hence deepened the interest in the watches. My father told me that, in settling the voyage, he did not advise the employment of a lawyer. He remarked, “You will have to pay a lawyer at least twenty-five dollars, and it’s money thrown away. Sailors now are too smart for the lawyers. This is the way they do. Where two men have the same lay and the same outfit and have had the same amount out of the slop chest, during the voyage, they agree that one of them shall have a lawyer. So this man goes in with his lawyer and his voyage is settled and he is paid off; and he pays his lawyer twenty-five dollars. Then the second man goes in all alone, and his voyage is settled and he is paid off. Then these two men get together and compare notes, and, if they find that the settlement is fair, one of them being twenty-five dollars out of pocket, in go the rest of the crew in a bunch, to settle, and the twenty-five dollars is borne by the whole crew. You don’t want a lawyer. However, the only thing you want to look out for is the ambergris. It’s rarely they find it, but some druggist may know what the last lot brought.” I followed the suggestion, and the druggist I visited said, “The last lot came in about fifteen years ago. There were thirty pounds, all in good condition, and it was sold in Boston for seven thousand dollars. I believe the substance is worth just as much now as it was then.” It was about eleven o’clock when I went with my father to the owner’s office. Most of the crew were gathered outside on the wharf. When we entered, the only people present were the Quaker, the bookkeeper, one of the foremast hands and a lawyer.