It was almost time for the Indian and myself to be relieved, but fortunately we remained aloft long enough for the Indian, at least, to make out the object and announce the situation. “Whaleboat, sure,” he said. By this time the object was plain to me and I was soon able to make out a boat. The Indian kept gazing intently and began muttering again. Before long he shouted for the captain’s information: “Only four men rowin’. Looks like one man hurt.” When we descended, we found the carpenter out with the medicine chest. It seemed to me as if time never passed so slowly. Did the boat belong to some vessel which had suffered shipwreck, and had its occupants been forced to resort to the awful expedients of famished sailors, or had it merely lost its ship and been only a few days astray? This last conjecture was the more probable, as we were cruising on a whaling ground, and, though it was of vast extent, it was rarely traversed by merchant vessels. As the boat came near us, the ship was hove to. The Indian was right; there were four men at the oars, and the man not rowing was bent over as if he had been injured. To the captain’s hail the reply came from the man with the steering oar: “Boat of the bark _Magic_ of New Bedford—struck a whale late yesterday afternoon. Man’s arm caught in warp and injured. Warp cut, lost bark, been out all night.” The injured man was the first to be helped aboard. He appeared exhausted and was evidently in great pain. It is wonderful how gentle and tender rough men can be when their services to a sufferer are suddenly invoked. The man sat down on the hatch and was first given a generous drink of New England rum. Then the captain and carpenter proceeded to relieve him of his jacket. This was done very slowly, and gently done, too. Even then the patient winced and his face bore witness to the pain occasioned. The garment removed, an unpleasant spectacle was presented. The sleeve of the shirt was saturated with blood, which was dry, black and coated, and this evidently had staunched the flow as his companions in the boat had had no means of treating the injured member. The cook brought warm water, and the carpenter soaked the sleeve until it parted from the flesh. Then he severed the sleeve near the shoulder and the bruised arm was revealed. First, washing it so as to remove any lint that might adhere, and applying a lotion with the delicate touch of a woman, he then wound the bandage around it with the skill of a surgeon. The sufferer was then allowed the freedom of the cabin. “A good job,” said one of the sailors. “He done so well, Peter, why don’t you have him take your tooth out?”