We were due in the Arctic Ocean the last of June, and were to touch first at Honolulu, where most of us expected letters from home. It was not our fortune to take a right whale during the voyage, as we were to cruise partly for sperm whales, but chiefly for the right whale’s great brother, the bowhead, to be found in the Northern Pacific and the Arctic Oceans. We were privileged, however, to see a right whale feed. One day we passed through a great stretch of “brit.” The sea presented the appearance of an extensive field of grain. I was at the masthead. Another lookout declared, “Plenty of brit. Likely to see a right whale any time. If you do, no use to try and take him. Never take a righter when he’s feedin’. One thing, he won’t stop, and another thing, he goes too fast for you to follow him.” In half an hour this very man called out, “B-l-o-w-s, b-l-o-w-s, b-l-o-w-s.” “Sperm or righter,” shouted the captain. “Righter,” was the answer. There was no excitement below, indeed nothing to show that a boat was to be lowered. To me the sight was new and interesting. The spout was straight and erect and far more beautiful than that of the sperm. The whale seemed to be bound directly for us and, as we were going in opposite directions, it was not long before he passed at close quarters. The rushing of the great creature with open mouth through his pasture of brit reminded me of a snowplough passing through a drift. He left behind him a trail of blue water and spouted with great force. I did not have to be told again that the right whale was difficult to capture when feeding. We cruised slowly towards Honolulu, taking a couple of small whales on the way, and, when we arrived, we had four hundred barrels of sperm oil stowed down. I was of the opinion that some of the men might desert, if they had shore leave. I felt that the temptation would be very strong for Ohoo, for he would be near his home and he did not regard the cold weather in the Arctic with favor. The entrance of the harbor is through a narrow opening in the coral reef, and the place where we dropped anchor was at a convenient distance from the shore. A boat’s crew was selected, the captain held the steering oar, and Lakeum was in the bow. Strange to say, Ohoo was one of the other four, and I rejoiced in the fact that I also was of the number. An hour’s leave was granted. The air was balmy, and the town had rather an American appearance. But delightful as it was to get back once more to civilization, I kept thinking of my mother and my home, and I soon strolled back to the landing. Lakeum, too, had returned, and we were alone. I don’t know how he happened to divine my thoughts, but he did. “Bleechly,” he said, “you think Ohoo won’t come back, but he will. I’d trust that Kanaka anywhere. His people live up in the town somewhere. They are of the poorer class. Despite persuasion of family or friends, Ohoo will show up in a few minutes.” Soon he resumed: