Looking down into the water I could see the ghostly form of the whale rising to the surface with tremendous force just in front of the bow. There was no time to stop the ship and the animal burst from the water half under the vessel’s side. I started back, shielding my camera from the spout, and, stumbling over a pile of chains on the deck, slid almost to the forecastle companionway. Scrambling up, I jumped to the rail and snapped the camera at the huge body partly hidden by the boat. The whale seemed dazed by his sudden appearance under the steamer, and rolling on his side, went down only a few feet, reappearing ten fathoms away. Sorenson, who had held to the gun, steadied himself, swung the muzzle about, and taking deliberate aim, planted the harpoon squarely behind the fin. It was a beautiful shot, and the whale went down without a struggle. The quiet which followed the deafening explosion was broken only by the soft swish of the line running out from the winch and the men going to their places. I was leaning against the side almost weak from the excitement of the last few minutes when Sorenson, a pleased grin on his sunburned face, turned and said, “I didn’t miss him that time, did I? He never moved after I fired.” Four hours more of chasing first one and then another brought the vessel close to a humpback and again Sorenson sent the harpoon crashing into the lungs, killing at the first shot. As the day had been a tiring one and it was too dark to take pictures, I picked up my camera and climbed down the narrow companionway into the Captain’s cabin. After reloading the plate holders I lay down on the bunk listening to the rattling of chains and the tramp of feet on the deck above as the dead whale, with the other which had been picked up, was made fast to the bow of the vessel. [Illustration: Bringing in a humpback at the end of the day’s hunt. The whale’s flukes weigh more than a ton. ] The boat had started on the thirty-mile tow to the station and, gradually becoming accustomed to the rolling, I was lulled to sleep by the steady “chug, chug, chug” of the engines and the splashing of the water against the side. CHAPTER IV THE “VOICE” OF WHALES AND SOME INTERESTING HABITS For me, developing the photographic negatives after a trip at sea is almost as fascinating as taking them, and no secret treasure chest was ever opened with greater interest than is the developing box. After my first expedition a tank developer was always used, for I invariably became so excited watching the image appear upon the plate that several were ruined by being held too long before the red lamp.