The cook put the meat through a sausage machine, spiced it with sage, savory and pepper, mixed in a little chopped pork, then made it up into balls and fried it. Most of us of the forecastle had never tasted bowhead meat before, but we were loud in our praise of the meat balls. The flavor was rather peculiar, and one of the men, who had seen a good deal of the world, said that they tasted to him a little like venison. “Me don’t know nothin’ ’bout Benny’s son,” observed Ohoo. “But me no care no more ’bout lobscouse and hard bread; me eat blawhead all time.” I have described a right whale feeding on brit. More than once it was our fortune to see a big bowhead devour his dinner. The food in the North Atlantic and Arctic is called “slicks”, which give the water the appearance of oily streaks. They are produced by different kinds of jellyfish and range in size from a pea to six inches or more in diameter. When the bowhead is feeding the spread of the lips is about thirty feet. Turning on his side, he will take a course fifteen feet wide and a quarter of a mile long, scooping just under the surface where the slicks are most abundant. The water passes through the whalebone and packs the slicks upon the hair sieve. The bowhead raises the lower jaw and, still keeping the lips apart, forces the tongue into the cavity of the sieve, expelling the water through the spaces between the bone. Then the bowhead closes his lips to enjoy his meal. CHAPTER X EXPERIENCES IN THE ARCTIC Business was now carried on both day and night, or, more properly speaking, all the time, as there was no night. There was always some one in the crow’s nest. To increase the chances of seeing and capturing whales, the _Seabird_ would drop a boat at about seven A.M., and sail about twenty miles and then drop another boat. Then she would cruise between the two boats. There was little danger, where it was light all the time, of losing a craft. The boats were well provisioned, and the men wore their thickest clothing. On the third day a whale was announced just as the captain gave orders to lower. Our boat and Silva’s engaged in sharp competition. We took water first and got the lead, but the movements of the whale favored the other boat, and Silva’s man put two irons into him. We stood by to help if we were needed, and I eagerly watched the proceedings, for this was the first real live bowhead I had seen struck. He pounded the sea with his terrible flukes and then sounded just like a sperm whale. When the slack was taken in and the big fellow appeared on the surface, we followed Silva’s boat and watched with keen interest the last act in the tragedy. Silva handled the lance well, driving it into the body as if he had a sperm whale to deal with. When the bowhead was dead and the tow-line was attached to him, Lakeum said to me: “I hope Silva won’t have trouble. You know what so often happens in the case of bowheads?”