The news was not very encouraging, for although I have spent many days on whaling ships I have never learned to appreciate perfectly the charm of the deep when the little cork-like vessels are tossing and throwing themselves about as though possessed of an evil spirit. Each time, I make a solemn vow that if ever I am fortunate enough once more to get on solid ground my days of whaling will be ended. CHAPTER VIII CHARGED BY A WILD SEI WHALE [Illustration: “We hunted them for two hours, trying first one and then the other—they had separated—without once getting near enough even for pictures.” ] The ship got under way at two o’clock the next morning, and within half an hour was pitching badly in a heavy sea. At five Andersen and I turned out and climbed to the bridge, both wearing oilskins and sou’westers to protect ourselves from the driving spray. The sun was up in a clear sky, but the wind was awful. The man in the top shouted down that he had seen no whales, but that many birds were about, showing that food must be plentiful and near the surface. Captain Andersen turned to me with a smile: “Don’t you worry! We’ll see one before long. I’m always lucky before breakfast.” Almost while he was speaking the man aloft sang out, “_Kujira!_” The _kujira_ proved to be two sei whales a long way off. When we were close enough to see, it became evident that it would only be a chance if we got a shot. They were not spouting well and remained below a long time. [Illustration: “He was running fast but seldom stayed down long, his high sickle-shaped dorsal fin cutting the surface first in one direction, then in another.” ] We hunted them for two hours, trying first one and then the other—they had separated—without once getting near enough even for pictures. It was aggravating work, and I was glad to hear Andersen say: “We’ll leave them and see if we can find some others. They are impossible.” When we came up from breakfast six other ships were visible, some of them not far away and others marked only by long trails on the horizon. We passed the _San Hogei_ near enough to hear Captain Hansen shout that he had seen no whales, and then plowed along due south directly away from the other ships. In a short time, one by one, they had dropped away from sight and even the smoke paths were lost where sky and sea met. [Illustration: “Always the center of a screaming flock of birds which sometimes swept downward in a cloud, dipping into the waves and rising again, the water flashing in myriads of crystal drops from their brown wings.” ]