THE GAM. 183 



The men sat on the stout sea-chests along the 

 sides of that semi-circular room in the whale-ship's 

 bow. There were eighteen men in all ; nine 

 were hosts, nine were guests. Light streamed 

 down upon them from greasy lamps hung up 

 on the bitts. The air was dim with the smoke 

 of cheap tobacco. 



Gamming is distinctly a whaleman's pastime. 

 Merchant ships will pass each other in mid-ocean 

 without a sign of recognition, steam-craft will go 

 by with a snobbish air that almost approaches 

 hostility, but whale-ships, when they meet, are 

 friendlier. They will heave to, after the day's 

 cruising is over and there is no longer any chance 

 of raising whales, and the captain's watch of one 

 ship will entertain the captain's watch of the other 

 ship. Similarly, the two chief mates' watches 

 come together. This is called " gamming." 



On that particular occasion the Clara Bell's 

 forecastle had been a hilarious roistering place 

 since seven in the evening. There had been 

 songs and cards and smoke ; and smoke and 

 cards and songs. There had been long-spun, 

 hair-lifting narratives of whaling adventures. 

 There had also been news from home — some 

 of it a year old, but still very startling ; and some 

 of it six months new, every word an eye-opener. 



