Within half an hour came the gladdening cry from aloft, “B-l-o-w-s! b-l-o-w-s! b-l-o-w-s! There he breaches! There he white-waters!” The captain called out, “Where away?” “Two points on the lee bow.” “How far off?” “Two miles, sir.” “Keep your eye on him. Sing out when we head right.” The captain gave orders to call all hands, get the boats ready, square the mainyard, put the helm up, keep her off, stand by the boats and lower away. Then he took his glasses and climbed to the main crow’s nest. The braces, sheets, and halyards were thrown from the pins, and then, while the men reached and hauled, the mates slacked away, the yards swung and the vessel came about. The boats quickly took to the water, and the crew swarmed down the falls and dropped into their places. The boat-steerers went forward, the officers aft. There was suppressed excitement, but no disorder. The wind was favorable, the masts were stepped in all the boats, the sails hoisted and peaked and the sheets paid out; and away we went. Each boat, of course, carried six men. As it happened, we were headed for a “pod” or “school” of sperm whales. All the boats were in the chase, and the men left on the ship were the captain, the four sparemen or shipkeepers, the cook, the steward and the carpenter. The vessel fortunately was to windward and could easily bear down on a boat if it made fast to a whale. Here I should say that every whaling house had its private code of signals. As the vessel was often a long distance from the boats engaged in the chase, signals gave needed instructions. The signals were generally about fifteen in number. They consisted of the position of colors and of the sails. Thus the men were told of the location of whales they could not see from the boats, of an accident to their companions, such as a stove boat, or the need of their presence on the ship. We had not gone a quarter of a mile before the wind shifted and we had to take in sail and resort to the oars. My feelings are so well told by Captain Robbins, an old whaleman, in his book called the “Gam” that I propose to quote his exact language. The captain says: “I shall never forget the dazzling sensations of that first moment—the tall ship, with her checkered sides and her huge white davits; the two sharp-bowed clinker-built boats—five long oars in each—two on one side, three on the other; the sun-glint upon the oar-blades as they lifted above the surface, the white splash when they dipped again; the rapid, nervous, brutal stroke; the pose of the officers as they stood in the stern-sheets of the boats, each with his lifted left hand holding the steering oar, and each with his right hand pushing upon the stroke oar; and, yet more vivid, the one figure I could see in our own boat. For the mate stood last, steering with one hand and helping me row with the other.”