WHALEMAN ON THE STAGE. 161 



hand, a deep border of black drawn around it. I 

 found that I had departed from the usual dry and 

 formal log-book style. Indeed, I had sentimental- 

 ized not a little. Viewing, in calmer mood, this 

 eulogy of John Pierce, I could not help feeling a 

 little amused. I had always made fun of funeral 

 sermons, and here I had been preaching one 

 myself in black and white. 



As I was in the midst of this reverie, the cabin- 

 boy dropped down the stairway to bring word that 

 a whale-ship had just been sighted. It was not 

 long after that, with customary ceremonies, we 

 spoke her. She proved to be an old friend from 

 Sag Harbor. 



We kept fairly close together until sundown, 

 and then the Sag Harbor captain and boat's crew 

 came on board to spend the evening. 



There in the boat, to our utter amazement, was 

 JOHN PIERCE ! He had grown a stubby beard 

 since last we had seen him, but that was no dis- 

 guise. There he was (to my infinite relief) alive 

 and well — the same unmistakable, happy - go - 

 lucky, jolly Jack Tar as before he had gone to 

 his watery grave. It was enough to make a man 

 believe in the transmigration of souls ! I was 

 mightily glad to see him alive, though, to tell the 



truth, I had not greatly missed his services. 

 11 



