The milk itself looks exactly like cow’s cream. I once drew out about a gallon from a humpback and tasted it. It was very disagreeable, but I imagine that little of the original flavor was left, for the whale had been killed about fourteen hours before and the milk had not only soured but was also permeated with the gases of decomposition. I am quite sure that if fresh the milk would not be at all bad, and stories are told (which, however, I have never substantiated and greatly doubt) that when at sea the Norwegians sometimes use on the table milk from a freshly killed whale. A remarkable account of whale milking was published in a New York newspaper and had such a wide circulation that the facts may be of interest. It seems that a reporter was sent to interview Dr. F. A. Lucas, who had recently been at Newfoundland to secure a blue whale’s skeleton for the United States National Museum, and during the conversation Dr. Lucas jokingly remarked that it would be a fine idea to entice two or three whales into a narrow bay, bar the entrance with posts, and anchor a carcass inside. This would attract great numbers of small crustaceans and give food for the captive whales. The animals might then be trained to come to a wharf morning and evening and submit to being milked. Thus the problem of “the high cost of milk” for an entire village might easily be solved. [Illustration: The result of a single day’s hunt. Five humpback whales at Sechart, Vancouver Island. ] The reporter was certain that this would fill his editor’s idea of a whale story, but when writing it neglected to state that his data were purely imaginary. The story was copied in papers throughout America and for months afterward I was deluged with letters asking who the successful whale trainer might be. CHAPTER VI JAPANESE SHORE STATIONS In the summer of 1909, after a short expedition to the St. Lawrence River to hunt white porpoises, I joined the _U. S. S. Albatross_ in the Philippines as a special naturalist for a cruise among the islands of the Dutch East Indies. It was an exceedingly interesting trip, but even though sailing over ground where thousands of sperm whales had been killed in years gone by, not a spout was seen. We raised our first whales at the southern end of Formosa late in January, while steaming northward to Japan. They were two humpbacks, lazily rolling about in a deep bay where we had anchored to escape a typhoon which was roaring along the coast outside, and showed us that we were on the edge of the Japan whaling banks, famous among all deep-water sailors.