“We’re in a bunch of humpbacks, sir. You’d better get up if you want some pictures.” As I had only removed my coat and shoes the night before, in five minutes I was on deck with my camera and plate holders. It was a gray day, heavy clouds lining the sky and a strong wind blowing from the westward. Already the little steamer was pitching and rolling in a way which made me hate even the thought of breakfast, but catching sight of the flukes of a big humpback just disappearing below the surface on the starboard side, I forgot for a moment that there was such a thing as seasickness. I climbed to the bridge beside the Mate who was at the wheel and after getting the camera ready for instant use, took out my notebook and glasses. The whales were all about us but feed was evidently scarce and far below the surface, for the animals were swimming long distances under water, only rising to blow at irregular intervals. For three hours we kept up a fruitless chase after first one and then another of the humpbacks, once or twice getting so close that a shot seemed imminent. At last the Captain, who had come on deck, said: [Illustration: “The flukes of a big humpback just disappearing below the surface on the starboard side.” ] “It’s no use to bother with these fellows; there is no feed and we may stay here all day without killing; we’ll go over toward Fanshaw, and see if we can’t find another bunch.” Two hours of steaming brought us in sight of Storm Island and far over near the shore we could see several spouts. Now and then flukes would show as one of the animals went down, indicating to my satisfaction that some, at least, were humpbacks. When we neared the whales I left the bridge, making my way forward along the deck to the harpoon-gun, and with camera ready braced myself against a rope. The steamer was pitching furiously and it was all I could do to keep my feet, but clinging to a line with one hand and shielding the lens of my camera with the other, I awaited the reappearance of a whale that had gone down on the starboard side. Suddenly the gunner shouted, “There he comes!” and pointed over the bow where the water was beginning to smooth out in a large, green patch about thirty fathoms away. Before I could focus my camera, the whale had burst into view, sending his spout fifteen feet into the air. Evidently he saw us for he was down again in a second, only to reappear several fathoms astern. Time after time he showed himself, never near enough for a shot but keeping me busy exposing plates.