160 WHALEMAN ON THE STAGE. 



went forward and was lost to view in the darkness. 

 Many a time since then have I had reason to be 

 glad that my last words to the man were kind. 



At four next morning, when the watch was 

 called, no John Pierce could be found. 



Every nook and every smallest cranny in the 

 whole ship was looked into, but all to no purpose. 

 Not a trace of the fellow could we discover. 

 Reluctantly at last we gave him up as lost, 

 convinced against our wills that he had tumbled 

 overboard during the night. 



A solemn hush fell upon us. Hardened, though 

 most of us were, and accustomed to the constant 

 dangers of a seaman's calling — used though we 

 were to these sudden disappearances from life and 

 duty — we could never be reconciled to them. 

 Indeed, it seemed as if each new death of this sort 

 were more dreadful than the one before it. 



But, as usual, the sense of shock and of wrong 

 went by. The man's absence ceased to impress 

 us. At last we had almost forgotten the circum- 

 stance of his taking off. 



About one year from the night of Pierce's 

 disappearance, we were cruising off Madagascar. 



I happened that day to be running over my 

 log-book and chanced upon the entry of the facts 

 noted above. There was the record in my own 



