Peter, a good-natured foremast hand, was suffering from toothache and was very disconsolate. He said that he had never had any trouble with his teeth before, and that this was the first tooth to decay. I think he was pleased with the carpenter’s medical proficiency and anticipated the extraction of the tooth without much suffering. Peter was told to lie down on the hatch, and then there followed one of the most barbarous practices I ever beheld. Forceps were then in use, but the carpenter had none, and used the old-fashioned rollers instead. The tooth was really ground out of the man’s jaw in a way that reminded me of grinding sausages. He bellowed like a wild animal, and the tears stood in his eyes. His glance showed resentment rather than gratitude. Yet the carpenter did his best with his old-fashioned implement. Kreelman said, quietly, “Carpenter, surgeon, blacksmith, dentist, all one.” The mate of the rescued boat told an interesting story. In the late afternoon they had lowered, and, after a long chase, had made fast to a whale; a kink in the warp had led to the accident and the warp was cut. It was nearly dusk, and the ship was not to be seen. They took what they thought was the proper direction, but no lights were observed. “If we don’t pick her up to-day, we’ll heave to at night and pick her up in the morning,” said Gamans. On inquiry, it was found that the _Magic_ had made a fine voyage and was on her last cruise. This was pleasant news, and word was passed round that the men on the watch below might write letters to be taken by the _Magic_, if we were so fortunate as to gam with her. That evening our visitors were exultant over their successful voyage and made us feel rather small with our moderate amount of oil. One of the _Magic’s_ men was very boastful, and described incidents in their voyage of an extraordinary nature, which did not lose anything, however, from the man’s telling them. After he had pretty well talked himself out, one of our men asked: “What do you think your cargo will amount to? When we left port, sperm oil was the lowest it had been for a good many years, and your catch, I suppose, is all sperm. You ain’t got no bone, and you didn’t go in the Arctic as we are goin’.” “Well, our captain says it’ll bring about ninety thousand dollars.” The man looked round with an air of triumph. “Ninety thousand dollars is a good deal of money,” he continued. “Yes, it is, but we took about seventy-five thousand dollars of merchandise in a few hours, and we’ve been out from port considerably less than a year,” observed one of our men. The remark was greeted with a derisive laugh. One of our visitors retorted, “It would take a good many months to get seventy-five thousand dollars’ worth of sperm oil, and a good many weeks to try-out and stow down.” “We’ve got a patent machine. We do it all in one job.” “Pshaw! That’s nonsense.”